


New Clichés

by gaylax_ies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adventure, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Developing Relationship, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay, Gay Keith (Voltron), Happy Ending, Harry Potter References, How Do I Tag, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lots of Cursing, M/M, Muggle Quidditch, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Out of Character, Slow Burn, Swearing, Texting, YouTube, just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 17:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10283924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaylax_ies/pseuds/gaylax_ies
Summary: An adventure a day doesn't keep the gay away.(A.K.A. the Harry Potter/Texting/Enemies to Lovers/WTF fic that nobody asked for but me.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm back!  
> This was supposed to be a quick 'n' easy, one-day write, 7k word fic but, instead, I birthed a monstrosity.  
> If you're here from [Pass Like the Weather](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9465386) (which is a mermaid AU I wrote, you can check it out!), there should be a part two to that coming soon.  
> This fic is not beta-read, so please forgive me for any typos! I wanted to get if up ASAP, so I didn't have time to properly proofread it. I'll be looking over it every once in a while to fix any errors.  
> Finally, you can find me [HERE](http://fukurodani-jpeg.tumblr.com) on my tumblr!!  
> The title is from for him. by Troye Sivan ft. Allday
> 
> EDIT (Dec. 4, 2017): I changed a line in which I mention Melanie Martinez because of the rape allegations brought up against her today. I believe that she should be exposed for her actions on all platforms I have and that there is no defence for her unless she is truly proven innocent; her victim does not deserve to suffer alone. So that's that, if you're confused about the line!!

Keith will be the first to admit that his day-to-day life is not very exciting. Sleep, eat, school, repeat. But it’s simple, and he likes it that way. No hassle, no fuss, just easy routines and nothing in his way to throw him out of his element.

That is, of course, until today.

He’s working at his computer, typing up an essay for the English course that he took out of pure spite, when his phone vibrates.

And vibrates.

And vibrates.

“Oh, come on,” he mutters aloud to his empty dorm, “what the fuck?”

He pats the space around him with likely too much aggression but come on, he was on a roll. He lifts his phone in front of his face when he finds it, reading the messages.

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _oh my GOD Hunk okay so listen up._

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _so I was taking a nap right?_

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _and for some reason, my stove turned on? And I haven’t cooked today, like, not at all._

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _but anyway so the stove triggered my sprinklers which made it motherfuvkin rain in my goddamn apartment._

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _but the moral of the story is that I think I have a ghost?? And I think the fucker hates me??_

“Okay, seriously?” Keith complains, “it’s a wrong goddamn number? What the hell, man?” 

He turns his phone off and shoves it back under a pile of papers before cracking his knuckles and settling back in over his computer. All he wants to do is finish his goddamn essay and then drink until two the next morning.

The only issue is that his phone will not stop buzzing.

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _yo Hunk buddy are you alive?_

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _Funky Hunky are you there?_

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _no but like for real Hunk do you still exist bc you always text back immediately this is weird I’m concerned._

“Oh, Jesus Christ, man!” Keith yells at his ceiling, unlocking his phone.

 **_To Unknown Number:_ ** _Hello, sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong number. This isn’t your friend Hunk._

“Alright, boom, done, I’ve cleared this all up, if this guy texts back one more fucking-”

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _oh, whoops._

Keith screams.

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _so funny story I actually just got a new phone and as it happens your number is only one number away from Hunk’s so you really can’t blame a guy for getting a little confused._

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _but anyway, nice to meet you. I’m Lance, you are…_

 **_To Unknown Number:_ ** _Not Hunk._

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _well, no shit, Sherlock._

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _at this point I’d be more concerned if you were Hunk._

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _now, are you going to tell me your name or has the stick up your ass stolen it from you?_

 **_To Unknown Number:_ ** _It’s Keith._

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _wait, seriously?_

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _you wouldn’t be Keith Kogane, would you?_

“Wait, what the fuck?!” Keith yelps, eyebrows flying up. “How does he know who I am? There’ve gotta be like, a million Keiths with this area code! It’s not a very special name!”

 **_To Unknown Number:_ ** _Yes, actually. How did you know that?_

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _Because I’m Lance._

 **_To Unknown Number:_ ** _Yes, we clarified that already._

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _No but come on._

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _Lance McClain??_

 **_From Unknown Number:_ ** _are you being annoying on purpose or are you just an idiot??_

 **_To Unknown Number:_ ** _Excuse me?_

 **_To Unknown Number:_ ** _I’m sorry, but I don’t know you._

“Now, for the love of God, leave me the hell alone,” he growls to his black computer screen before striking the spacebar to turn it back on.

Of course, Keith could never be that lucky.

His ringtone suddenly blares and he shrieks, slapping his hand on his phone. He answers the call and yanks it up to his ear.

“What?” Keith snaps.

“Whoa, there,” the stranger says, “no need to be so aggressive.”

“Listen up, _Lance,_ I don’t know who you are and I have an essay to finish, so would you mind leaving me alone?”

“Okay, okay, I will. In just a minute.”

Keith hangs up.

 

A week passes, Keith hands in that hellish English essay, and life feels pretty alright. Spring break is starting and, while he’s not doing anything particularly interesting, he’s excited for some time off. He’ll be staying in the dorms, which is less than ideal, but at least he also gets some goddamn peace and quiet.

Or so he thinks. 

It’s Saturday night and he’s lying upside-down on his bed, playing Portal 2 as his hair brushes the floor below him.

_Bzzt._

“Huh?” he asks aloud, pausing the game to find his phone. His head spins as he sits up.

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _hey._

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _hey Keith boy._

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _wassup????????_

“Okay, what?” Keith yells, “why is this guy back? Why’s he texting me again? Why didn’t I block his goddamn number?”

 **_From Lance:_ ** _haha lmao Keithboy I can tell you saw this you have your read receipts on._

 **_To Lance??:_ ** _What is it, Lance?_

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _oooh feisty_

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _but like anyway so_

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _i was watching harry potter right?? and i kinda got piss drunk even though my literal only life rule is to never drink alone but like i got distracted can you blame me it was happy rooter_

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _oh whops i mean harry potter**_

 **_To Lance??:_ ** _I really don’t see how this is my problem._

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _oh but it is keithboy just you wait and see_

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _so like i drank alone and all that stuff right and i though tlike wait im gonna call someone and then its like I'm not alone anymore so im allowed_

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _BUT the issue is that all my friends went places for break and i just stayed on campus so i have no friends to call but alas_

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _KEITHBOY IS HERE!!!!_

 **_To Lance??:_ ** _And who said I was your friend?_

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _I did you spork._

“Did he just call me a spork?” Keith wonders, “wait! Did he say he was watching Harry Potter?”

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _sooooooo Keithboy you gonna pick up or you gonna break my achy breaky heart it’s your choice_

 **_To Lance??:_ ** _That depends._

 **_To Lance??:_ ** _What’s your favourite HP book?_

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _Harry Potter and the fancy hot cup_

“Does he mean… Goblet of Fire? I think he means Goblet of Fire.”

 **_To Lance??:_ ** _What House are you in?_

 **_From Lance??:_ ** _GRYFFINDOR BABY!!_

“Seriously!” Keith shouts in excitement. He’s the only Gryffindor in his friend group- Shiro, Allura, Matt, and Pidge are all Ravenclaw- so finding someone who shares his House is amazing. Even if that someone is Lance.

 **_To Lance??:_ ** _Okay, I’ll pick up._

He’s barely even pressed send before his phone starts to ring.

“Helloooooo, Keithyboy, how you doing?” Lance drawls lazily.

“Alright, how drunk are you?”

“Just a smidgen, a teensy bit,” Lance replies, his words warping around what sounds like a yawn. Keith rolls his eyes.

“What Harry Potter were you watching?” Keith asks, shutting off his game console. From what he knows, Lance is pretty high-maintenance; he’ll have to resume his level another time.

“The- the one, what was it?” Lance garbles, “oh. Hazza Potter and the angry bird club. That one.”

“Do you mean Order of the Phoenix?”

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s the one. Damn, Keithboy, you're so smart.”

“Thanks?”

“Yup, so, so smart, no wonder you beat us last year,” he says. Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Huh? Beat you? In what?” he asks, laying across his bed and pressing his feet to the wall. He has a feeling that his conversation with drunk Lance isn’t going to be a quick one.

“Quidditch, you noodle. Ohio State vs. CIM? You wiped the floor with us, asshole,” Lance groans, and the sound of something falling travels through the phone. “Shit.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith chuckles. He’d joined Shiro’s intramural Quidditch team the previous year, alongside Matt, Allura, and a couple of other random nerds. He’d been Ohio State’s starting Seeker. “Wait, Lance, what position did you play?”

“Ah!” he cries, “Keith, you wound me! How do you not remember? I was Seeker! I was literally up your ass the entire match until your caramel-haired Satan hit me with a bludger! How do you forget that?”

Keith cringes. “Please do not say that you were up my ass ever again.”

“But I was!” Lance yells, “I was so far up your ass I could see out of your mouth! I almost had that damn snitch, too!”

“Lance,” he warns, even though he’s smiling. Drunk Lance is entertaining; Keith could get used to this.

“Oh, also, Keithboy, I was thinking like… out of all the possible Keiths I could’ve texted instead of Hunk, it wound up being you. Strange, isn’t it? Very, very strange,” Lance whispers, like he’s sharing a secret.

“Well, yeah. Just a weird coincidence, I guess.”

“Mhmm, very, very weird coinky-dink,” Lance says around another yawn. “Keithboy, what time is it?”

“It’s nearly two in the morning,” Keith replies.

“Oh, diddly-darn dangit, it’s late. I’ll tell you what, Keithboy; I’m gonna go to bed, you’re gonna go to bed, and we’re gonna sleep. But then I’ll call you tomorrow so we don’t get lonely. How’s that sound, Keithy, Keithboy, Chief Keith?”

“Okay.”

“Greaty great great. Nighty, Keith-o.”

“Goodnight, Lance.”

 

“Good morning, Keith!” Lance says brightly through the phone.

“Lance, it’s three in the afternoon; you’ve missed morning by four hours.”

“Fuck off, Keithboy,” he whines, “I was trying to be pleasant. I’m hungover as hell and Hunk makes this remedy smoothie shit but it’s frozen and I’ve gotta wait for it to melt so I called you, now be kind to me.”

“Good afternoon, then,” Keith replies with a smirk, “and why do you have to wait for the smoothie to melt? Microwaves exist, you know?”

“Ah, ah, ah, Keithboy, that doesn’t work. You see, the smoothie tastes like actual ass, and it just gets worse if it’s warm. It’s far safer to just let it thaw.”

“How about you nuke it and then stick it in the fridge for a while?” Keith suggests, pulling back the lid on a container of ramen.

“Oh my god, Keithy, I think you might be onto something,” Lance exclaims, and Keith can hear beeping in the background. He fills his noodles with water and pops it in his microwave before hopping up to sit on his tiny counter.

“Glad to help,” he replies, gently tapping his heels against his cabinets.

“Are you eating, Keithboy?” Lance asks, his microwave beeping at him on his end.

“Oh, yup. Instant ramen,” Keith says, jumping slightly when his microwave sounds.

“Wow, healthy,” Lance jokes.

“Fuck off,” Keith replies, stirring his noodles quickly before bringing them to his lips. “Focus on your hangover smoothie, you turd.”

“Wait, are you about to eat?” Lance asks, alarmed, and Keith pauses with his fork in his mouth.

“Yeah?” he mumbles.

“Oh my god, no, have you ever had to listen to anyone eat ramen over the phone? It’s disgusting.”

Keith lowers his fork. “I don’t know what you get up to, Lance, but I’ve certainly never listened to someone eat ramen over the phone.”

“And you don’t want to,” Lance declares, “but I don’t want to not be talking to you; I’m lonely. Have you got Skype?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, actually. It’s just Keith Kogane, no capitals, no spaces,” Keith says, setting down his noodles to grab his laptop.

“Great, okay, gimme like two minutes.”

Keith nods even though Lance can’t see them, and moves to sit at on the floor under his microwave. He props his laptop against his knees, stirring his ramen as he waits.

 **_Lance_ ** _would like to add you on Skype._

 **_Keith_ ** _has shared contact details with_ **_Lance._ **

It takes less than a minute for Lance to call him.

“Hey, hey hey, Keithboy, how’s your ramen?” he greets

_Oh._

Of course Keith remembers Lance. Of course he remembers the bright blue eyes surrounded by dark, clear skin; eyes that had winked at him before the match had started. He remembers the way that his teeth had clenched around his lower lips as he tried to body-check Keith out of his way, and he remembers the long fingers that’d wrapped around his arm as Lance tried to drag him back.

“Whoa,” he whispers.

“What’s up? Did my amazing face take your breath away?”

“No, I just realized that you’re the asshole who almost killed me at the Quidditch Cup last year.” Keith deadpans, lifting noodles to his mouth. Lance’s jaw drops, and he presses his fingers to his chest in mock offence.

“Alright, rude. Quidditch is an intense game, you should’ve known that before you stepped out on the pitch,” he insists, “and you’re not entirely innocent, either! You set your Beater loose on me! I bruised my ass!”

“Okay, I did not need to know that,” Keith laughs.

“You definitely needed to know about the state of my ass,” Lance replies. Keith just rolls his eyes, and they eat and drink in silence for a while.

“Hey, Keithboy?”

“Yeah?” Keith responds around a mouthful of noodles.

“Okay, first of all, don’t speak with your mouth full,” Lance says, “and also, why did you decide to stay on campus for spring break?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know, really. It’s kinda personal. My brother, Shiro, invited me to spend it with him, but I didn’t wanna third-wheel him and his girlfriend for a week, so…” Keith explains, “but how about you? Why aren’t you doing anything.

“My siblings are all on break, too, so I didn’t want to come home and put my Mama under more stress,” he tells Keith, “and Hunk’s sister is getting married in California on Wednesday, so he and I couldn’t do anything.”

“Oh, alright.”

“But, you know what, Keithboy?”

“Do I wanna know what?” Keith asks, eyebrow raised.

“Yes, because it’s going to be fun as fuck and I need you involved in it. We are going to to around and have a new adventure every single day, for the entire week,” Lance declares before throwing back a mouthful of smoothie and wincing.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Keith wonders aloud.

“Because you’re about as exciting as beige paint,” Lance fires back, “c’mon, Keith, what happened to the fucking vicious Seeker that I met last year? I know you can be more interesting than this!”

“Okay,” Keith sighs, “say that I agree to this. Where are we going to go? How are we going to get there? We barely even know each other, Lance, and I hate to say it, but I think you’re straight-up insane.”

“Oh, Keithboy, the only straight I am is a straight up G.”

Keith huffs a laugh at that, a smile cracking through his otherwise unimpressed expression.

“Alright, Lance. If you can figure out this crazy week full of adventures, I’ll go with you. You know, as long as you don’t wind up being a murderer or something,” Keith says, pulling more noodles into his mouth. Lance whoops and throws his arms in the air.

“Aw, yeah, Keithboy! I swear to the Lord Almighty, you and I are going to have the best week to ever week; it’s going to be the biggest adventure of your life!” he hollers.

“Okay, Lance-boy, I think it’s time for you to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Oh, doubting me, are you. Well, Keith, I have a proposition for you,” Lance says, stroking his chin with his finger, “I bet $10 that you’re going to have fun this week.”

“I’m willing to take that bet,” Keith replies.

“Perfect,” Lance announces, his eyes gleaming deviously, “and Keith? What residence hall are you in? And what’s your room number?”

And that’s how it begins.

 

**MONDAY; 7:30 A.M.**

 

“-eith. Keith, hey, wake up. C’mon. Keith, dude, wakey wakey eggs and get the fuck out of bed.”

Keith shrieks, limbs flailing as he wakes with a start. There’s a boy standing in his room, with a backpack slung over his shoulder and his eyebrow raised in distaste.

“Wow, attractive,” Lance mocks, unimpressed, with sarcasm dripping from every word. “I’ve never heard a shriek so manly in my life.”

“Wait- huh- what- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?” he shouts, dragging his comforter up to cover his bare chest.

“Well, I’m trying to have an adventure, but Sleeping Beauty over here has other plans,” Lance deadpans, setting a hand on his hip.

“How did you even get in here?”

“You left a key on top of the doorframe. That’s dangerous, you know. Someone could just,” Lance flips Keith’s key in his hand, “walk right on in.”

“What time is it?” Keith asks, dragging a hand through his messy hair.

“It’s just after 7:30, meaning you have half an hour to get ready, I wanna get their right when it opens.”

“Get where?”

“You’ll see, you’ll see. Now get up, Keithboy,” Lance insists, grabbing Keith’s hands to yank him out of bed, “we’ve got adventures to have.”

 

It’s 8am and Keith is sitting, fully clothed and ready to go who knows where, in the car of an almost complete stranger.

“Lance,” he whines, “tell me where we’re going? Please?”

“Sorry, can’t do that. You know the rules, Keithboy, gotta make it a surprise. Get comfy, though, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

They drive in silence for a while, Keith staring out the window at his familiar university campus.

“Oh, Keithboy?” Lance asks after a while, “would you be super strongly opposed to me playing some music?”

“That depends on what you’re going to play,” Keith replies.

“You’ll see.”

“What is it with you and surprises, Lance?” Keith grumbles. Lance just ignores him and plugs his phone into his aux cord and shuffles one of his playlists.

_“You’re insecure, don’t know what for…”_

“Oh my god, Lance, no!” Keith cries, grabbing for Lance’s phone. Lance jerks it away from him and fires a wink in his direction.

“You’re turning heads when you walk through the door!” he sings loudly, dropping his phone and moving his hand up to press against Keith’s face, keeping him away.

“Lance, please!”

“No! One song! One song, Keithboy!” Lance insists happily. “And you have to sing along, too!”

Keith opens his mouth to argue, but Lance’s bright smile cuts him off. Before he can stop himself, the annoyingly familiar words rise to his tongue, and he’s singing.

“Okay, okay,” he pants once the song is over, “that’s it, one song. Now let me play something.”

“If you play like, The Offspring or The Killers or something like that, I’ll kick you out of my car right here, in the middle of the highway,” Lance threatens with a smile.

Keith gasps in mock offence. “Okay, first of all, how dare you; The Killers are fucking legendary. And it’s not either of them so just give me the goddamn aux cord.”

Lance reluctantly hands it over and Keith plugs his phone in before shuffling his album of choice.

_“Keep your enemies close, your enemies close…”_

“Yes!” Keith shouts, “I love this song!”

“I can see that,” Lance replies with a smirk. They sit in silence for a minute, Keith dancing in the passenger’s seat, and Lance starts tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “This is actually a really good song, though. What is it?”

“See, I told you! And it’s Bedroom Warfare by One Ok Rock.”

“One Ok Rock? Keith, I’m sorry, but that is the dumbest band name I’ve ever heard,” Lance snorts.

“What? I thought it was pretty cool!”

“One Ok Rock, more like A Single Mediocre Stone,” Lance says, and Keith can’t help himself; he loses it. He laughs until his stomach hurts and he struggles for breath. Lance pulls over and they look at each other for just a second before collapsing into giggles again.

“Me- mediocre,” Keith cries, one hand clutching his shirt and the other one braced against the dashboard.

“Oh my god- oh my god, this hurts,” Lance gasps. Keith’s gaze drifts towards Lance’s, and they stare into each other’s eyes for another moment before Keith lets out an inhuman cackle.

“Stop looking at me, you’re making me laugh!” he shouts, smacking his hand against the dashboard and throwing his head back.

“Keith, Keith, oh my god, I’m crying.”

They howl on the side of the highway for another five minutes, faces red and eyes watery. After wiping away his tears, Lance sets his hands back on the steering wheel. Keith breathes deeply a few times, pressing his cool palms to his cheeks.

“Wait,” Lance says as he pulls back out onto the highway, “I just realized something. That song is about having sex with your rival.”

“Oh, hate-fucking? Yup,” Keith replies with a nod.

“Keith! How do you sound so nonchalant about that?”

“It’s fun! Have you never done it?” Keith asks.

“No! Have you?” Lance cries, his eyes wide and flicking between Keith’s face and the road.

“Oh, of course,” Keith answers casually, “I tried out for the volleyball team in senior year and I didn’t fucking make it, even though I was definitely better than some of the other guys. I was so angry that I seduced the ace.” He laughs at the shock on Lance’s face.

“Wow, I really did not need to know that,” Lance breathes.

“You asked! And it’s not like you’ve never had sex before,” Keith says.

“Touché.” 

 

**MONDAY; 10:17 A.M.**

 

“Is this- Lance? Are we at an aquarium?” Keith asks as Lance pulls into the parking lot. He twists in his seat and presses both hands to the passenger window to get a better look.

“Yup; Greater Cleveland Aquarium coming right up,” Lance announces. “Why? Have you never been?”

“No!” Keith yells. “Oh my God, I’m so excited!”

“Keithboy, it’s just an aquarium,” Lance quips with a smile. 

“Shut up, you crusty old man,” Keith growls, “it’s cool. And I’m allowed to be excited about it, I’ve never been to a dang aquarium before. Don’t be bitter.”

“I’m not bitter! I’m not old, either! And I’m just as excited as you are, I’m just cooler than you,” Lance replies.

“Oh, yeah, so incredibly cool,” Keith deadpans. Lance just scowls at him halfheartedly as he backs into a parking spot.

“Alright, Keith, are you prepared for your first ever- oh!” Lance’s question is cut off by Keith eagerly hopping out of the car and slamming the door behind him.

“Come on, loser!” he calls as Lance climbs out of the car, already halfway across the parking lot. Lance jogs over and snags Keith’s hand in his.

“Don’t get lost,” he jokes. Keith just hopes that Lance can’t see the blush on his cheeks.

Lance keeps gripping his hand as they walk through the parking lot and into the aquarium, and as he pulls out a fifty and sets it on the counter, ignoring Keith’s protests. He finally lets go as the enter the aquarium. when Keith rushes ahead to peer into the first exhibit.

“Oh my god, Lance, this is so pretty!” he exclaims happily, a childish joy bubbling up in his chest.

“Isn’t it?” Lance responds, hurrying to catch up as Keith moves on.

They make their way through the aquarium at a quick pace, stopping occasionally to take photos, and Keith is eager to see everything as soon as possible. They exchange excited words and witty banter as they go, excitedly pointing out the most interesting wildlife or comparing each other to the ugliest creatures.

“Hey, Lance,” Keith says, pointing at the aquarium’s Giant Gourami, “this one’s you.”

“His name is Toby,” Lance says factually, “and I happen to think he’s very beautiful. Now, move along, neither Toby or I are going to listen to your negativity today.”

Their banter stops as soon as they enter the underwater walkway. Keith freezes, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open as he takes in the scenery, and Lance can’t help but smile.

“Come on, Keith,” he whispers, gently taking Keith’s hand in his again, “it’s cooler if you actually enter.”

Keith takes a few hesitant steps forwards before rushing in all at once, dragging Lance behind him as he gets a closer look.

“Lance, we’re so close,” he breathes, his free hand coming up to rest on the glass. His grey eyes are wide and stunned, reflecting the blue of the aquarium, and Lance thinks that he’s beautiful.

_Wait, what?_

Now, liking guys is nothing new to Lance; he’s identified as bisexual since his freshman year of high school. But Keith is not his type. He’s into taller, broader guys, more tanned, less ‘2005 My Chemical Romance’.

Or so he thought.

But watching Keith, his face lit up like the sun, shakes him. Keith is beautiful in a way that Lance can’t deny, and realization hits him hard. 

Lance wants Keith, has wanted him since the Quidditch Cup, when Keith had walked out onto the pitch in shorts that were definitely too tight and too short to be game-legal. And he wants him now, in a t-shirt and jeans with a flannel around his waist and his hair pulled up at the nape of his neck, his face glowing blue from the water.

But he’ll be damned if he lets his crush on Keith ruin what’s going to be the best week of both of their lives.

“Keith, let’s go,” he urges, “the sharks like to hang out more towards the middle of the tank.”

Keith lets Lance tug him along, his eyes fixed on the water all around him. He gasps when they encounter the first shark and pulls away from Lance to set both hands on the glass again, watching with a smile as it swims by.

They make their way through the aquarium four more times, getting progressively slower with each lap, and Keith’s overjoyed expression never drops from his face. He views everything in the building with wonder, smiles at the fish that swim past his face, gets upset when he reads about the effects of pollution on the ocean, and Lance is ecstatic. 

 

**MONDAY; 4:55 P.M.**

 

“Lance,” Keith breathes against the car window as they pull away out of the parking lot. “That was amazing.”

“I know, right?” Lance replies, “I can’t believe you’ve never been to an aquarium before.”

“I was a pretty sheltered kid,” Keith admits with a shrug, “I never really did all the stuff that most kids do.” 

“Well that, Keithboy, is a tragedy, and I’m going to make it a personal mission to cram as much childlike fun as possible into the next six days; I promise.

“Well, I’m excited,” Keith says, reclining the passenger’s seat just slightly and stretching out. It only takes five minutes before he’s out cold.

 

They spend the trip back to Keith’s campus in silence, save for Keith’s phone plugged into the aux cord, and when Lance joins him in his dorm, Keith doesn’t question it.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks nonchalantly as Lance takes a seat on the floor.

“What do you have?”

Keith scans his fridge, “nothing. Let’s order a pizza,” he decides, handing Lance a water bottle and sitting down beside him.

“Your dorm is so small,” Lance says after stretching his legs out and accidentally kicking Keith’s TV stand.

“Yeah, well, it’s the best I can afford, so…” Keith replies. “You have an apartment through, right?”

“Yup. It’s pretty small too, but it’s still got more than one room. I like your place though,” Lance adds, “it feels really… you.”

“What; small, cheap, and kind of crusty?” Keith replies with a snort and an eyebrow raise.

“Exactly!” Lance exclaims, dodging the elbow that Keith sends his way. “But like, really, you’ve made it your own, you know?”

Keith looks around at his dorm, at the chipping, pale blue paint covered up by prints and posters of his favourite shows and bands. He takes in the Gryffindor flag that he’d painstakingly tacked up on the ceiling, and the small pride flag that hangs off the corner of his bookshelf. His PS4 is set up under the TV, surrounded by various games, and his desk is cluttered but organized, the room neat and clean save for a single dirty sock in the corner. As Keith looks around at the room he’s called home fora year and a half, he can really see himself in it.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Keith admits, rising to answer the door when the pizza man knocks.

“Don’t get me wrong, my apartment’s still better,” Lance teases as Keith sits down again.

“I thought you had a ghost?”

Lance snorts, stealing the pizza box from Keith and grabbing a slice. “Well, yeah, but after the sprinkler incident he became my homie. I ain’t afraid of no ghosts, Keithboy.”

“Whatever, dumbass.”

“However, speaking of my haunted apartment, I have to go,” Lance says, cramming the rest of his pizza into his mouth and grabbing a second slice, and then a third. He balances the pizzas in one hand as he stands and brushes off his jeans with the other.

“Huh?” Keith asks, surprised. “Why?”

“I told Hunk I’d water his houseplants,” Lance explains, grabbing a paper towel from the edge of Keith’s desk to wrap his pizza.

“Oh, okay,” Keith replies, his face falling just a little. He hopes that Lance doesn’t notice. Lance just smiles apologetically, tugging his shoes back on in Keith’s doorway.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Keithboy; I promise. So be ready for me.”

 

“I am _such_ an asshole!” Lance yells into his steering wheel as he pulls out onto the highway. “I’m such a dick, how could I just do that?”

The truth is, Lance has no house plants to water. He just couldn’t spend the night with Keith, cooped up in the same tiny room together, without doing something he’d regret. But now he’s buzzing with energy and upset at himself with nothing to do about it.

 **_From Funky Hunky:_ ** _hey dude remember you’re on video duty this week_

 **_From Funky Hunky:_ ** _don’t you dare forget_

 **_From Funky Hunky:_ ** _people expect things from us._

Perfect. Now he has something to do.

 

**TUESDAY; 9:23 A.M.**

 

Keith wakes up on the floor, head bent awkwardly against his own shoulder, still wearing jeans.

“Oh, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Lance greet happily. 

“Why’m I on the floor?” Keith replies groggily, stretching his arms up and yelping when his neck jolts in protest.

“Oh, yeah, I think you might’ve fallen asleep there? I’m not entirely sure. I was gonna try to put you to bed when I came in this morning, but I couldn’t figure out how to lift you without waking you up,” Lance explains, handing Keith a McDonald’s bag. “And I got you breakfast.”

“Oh, thanks. And you could’ve just woken me up, idiot,” Keith says, rolling his shoulders gingerly as he opens up the bag.

“But you looked so peaceful,” Lance coos jokingly. Keith rolls his eyes and starts to eat. 

“So, where to today?” he asks around a mouthful of food. Lance raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Keith, seriously, your mouth is full. Were you raised in a barn?” he chastises, laughing when Keith nods sarcastically. “Also, that’s classified information. I can’t tell you, but I’d recommend wearing something more athletic than jeans. Sweatpants, maybe.”

“Athletic? Are we playing sports? Because if we are, then no way. No fucking way, McClain, my lazy ass plays no sport,” Keith insists, shooting Lance a warning glare.

“Except Quidditch,” Lance points out, “and no, we aren’t playing actual sports. It’s just a fun sport thing, kind of.”

“Fun and sports do not belong in the same sentence,” Keith complains, shoving the rest of his breakfast sandwich in his mouth.

“Oh, quit your whining, Keithboy, it’ll be great. Hunk hates pretty much everything other that jogging and rugby, but he still likes this. I promise, now get up, get changed, be alive,” Lance insists, grabbing Keith by the wrists and pulling him to his feet.

 

It’s a much shorter car ride this time, Keith strong-arming the aux cord away from Lance in order to play Chase Atlantic. Lance pretends to hate it, but Keith can tell he’s lying by the subtle tap of his fingers against the steering wheel.

“How’re you gonna keep this up for a week?” Keith asks.

“Huh?”

“You know, the seven days, seven adventures thing. How do you plan to do this all week? There’s really not much for us to do,” Keith clarifies. Lance just raises his eyebrow.

“There’s plenty to do if you just look for it, Keithboy,” he insists, “now skip this song, you’ve been playing it on repeat and hoping I wouldn’t notice.”

 

**TUESDAY; 10:12 A.M.**

 

“Lance, it this a fucking-”

“Trampoline park? Hell yeah it is!” Lance cries excitedly as he pulls into the parking lot. “Keith, these places are so fun! It’s like a big ass room made of nothing but trampolines!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it is.”

“C’mon, Keith! You’re gonna have fun, I promise!” Lance begs, hopping out of the car and bounding around it to stick his head through Keith’s open window.

“You have ten bucks riding on this,” Keith reminds him, “you’d better hope I’ll have fun.”

“I’m confident, Keithboy. And also, we have to go today; there’s an $18 Tuesday special, so get your booty out of my car,” Lance insists, opening Keith’s door himself as Keith unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out. Lance grabs Keith’s wrist and eagerly drags him across the parking lot. He pays their cover, buys special trampoline socks and doesn’t let Keith get a single word in as he yanks him into the locker room.

Lance’s excitement is tangible, and Keith breathes it into his lungs, feels it pound through his veins and make his head run empty. He follows Lance’s actions as he strips of his shoes and socks and puts the new ones on, shutting their possessions away in the same locker. Then Lance is grabbing his hand again, leading him backwards out of the locker room and into the gym.

It’s _huge._

“Oh my god,” Keith breathes as they enter, mind reeling as he tries to take in the scene. The gym is huge, bigger than he ever could’ve imagined, and covered floor to ceiling in trampolines.

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” Lance replies, “c’mon, Keith, let’s go.”

Still hand in hand, Lance guides Keith out into the room, laughing when Keith stumbles. He giggles as he bounces lightly over the floor and his giddiness is tangible again, wearing away at all of Keith’s reluctance.

“So, what do we do?” Keith asks once Lance has stopped walking.

“Oh, um, I don’t know? I think you’re supposed to read? Or maybe paint a portrait? Perhaps pull down your pants and shit on the floor? You’re supposed to jump, idiot,” Lance deadpans.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, no shit, oh,” Lance replies sarcastically, the smile on his face dispelling any trace of bitterness in his tone. “I’ll tell you what, let’s have a competition.”

That strikes Keith’s interest.

“What kind of competition?”

“Whoever can jump for the longest without giving up wins eternal bragging rights and a slice of pizza courtesy of the other,” Lance declares, sticking his hand out for Keith to shake. Keith grasps it.

“Oh, you’re on.”

Then they’re bouncing, Keith starting out slowly to build his momentum. He wants that fucking pizza.

Lance, on the other hand, started out with vigour and, less than a minute into their competition, his thighs start to burn. 

_“Oh, I fucked up, I have fuckethed up.”_

“Doing okay there, Lance?” Keith taunts, having noticed Lance’s bright red flush. He looks entirely in his element, calm and nonplussed save for the wild mass of hair whipping his face with every bounce.

“Worry about yourself, pretty boy, I got this.”

As it turns out, he does not have this.

Lance lasts all of thirty seconds more before his legs give out and he’s sent sprawling to the floor beneath him. Keith cackles, eyes bright and happy as he slowly slows his jumping.

“So, eternal bragging rights _and_ pizza, huh?” he sneers, curling his legs up under him as he bounces and landing on his butt with an “oof.”

“I’m gonna call it beginner’s luck,” Lance replies, pouting exaggeratedly as Keith continues to beam. “No need to look so happy.”

“Of course I’m happy!” Keith  says, crawling over the mats between the trampolines to squish Lance’s face in both hands. “I just kicked your ass!”

“Keith, you wound me.”

“C’mon, get back up, McClain,” Keith commands, bouncing away from Lance on his knees and struggling to hop up to his feet. Lance laughs when he overestimates the power he needs and ends up flipping over onto his back.

 

“What else is there to do here?” Keith wonders. He’s sitting cross-legged on Lance’s trampoline, bouncing a little as Lance jumps.

“Um, I think there’s trampoline volleyball, but that requires having a team, which required social interaction, so no,” Lance says with a grimace. “And there’s a foam pit, and an obstacle course.”

“Obstacle course, you say? I’m sensing another chance to kick your ass.”

“Oh, you’re so on, Kogane,” Lance replies.

“Lead the way, McClain.” 

 

Lance can’t deny it; Keith is agile and quick as fuck, and he moves on the trampolines at though they were solid ground.

When they finally compete, he beats Lance at the obstacle course by a mile. He clears the obstacles with ease and grace, only tripping once compared to Lance’s three dozen times.

“Okay, Keith, you got me,” Lance surrenders once he gets to the end. “What do I owe you?”

“Hmm,” Keith deliberates, “nothing. It was just funny watching you somersault over the horizontal bar.”

They’d been at it all day, challenging each other to random, stupid things, running the obstacle course over and over, stopping to rest their legs every once in a while, and Lance knows beyond any doubt that Keith had fun. He’s gonna win that bet, no matter what.

“Okay, Keithboy,” he says, getting up off the mat and stretching his legs, “I think it’s time for us to go.”

“What? We still have like, an hour before closing!” Keith protests, “you can’t just bring me here, give me the time of my life, and then cut it short!”

“My deepest apologies, but we have things to do,” Lance announces, grabbing Keith’s wrist to bring him back the the locker room.

“Things?”

“We’re gonna go back to yours, definitely shower, and then pack some of your shit and get going.”

“Wait, huh? Going where?” Keith asks, raising his eyebrow skeptically at Lance.

“I’m taking you back to my apartment. It provides easier access to our next activities. And there’s more room, more food, we won’t have to sleep on the floor…” Lance explains, looking back at Keith to smile.

“Okay, fine, then,” Keith agrees, pouting slightly. Lance just chuckles.

 

**TUESDAY; 5:32 P.M.**

 

“Jump in my hooptie hooptie hoop-”

“I own that! And I ain’t paying my rent this month-”

“I owe that!”

“But fuck who you want, and fuck who you like! That’s our life, there’s no end in sight! Twinkle, twinkle little star…”

Keith is extremely grateful that there’s no one else in his dorm building over spring break.

He’s also grateful that the dorms have communal showers. 

 

**WEDNESDAY; 8:28 A.M.**

 

Keith must admit, Lance’s apartment is nice.

He's lying in Lance’s bed, tangled up in blue bedding and the smell of dryer sheets.

Despite Keith’s protests, Lance had insisted that he take the bed.

“No, no, Keithboy, you’re my guest. And I can sleep practically anywhere, so shut your trap and take the good side of the deal,” he said, and who was Keith to refuse?

He’s just barely awake when Lance walks in, setting a tray with two cups of coffee down on the side table and gently shaking Keith’s shoulder before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, Keithboy, wake up, I brought you coffee.”

“Ugh,” Keith groans, rolling over and pulling Lance’s comforter up over his head. Lance giggles and pulls it back down.

“You are not a morning person, are you?” he teases. Keith turns back over and levels a sleepy glare at him.

“Go away,” he whines even as he sits up, sticking out his hands for coffee.

“I didn’t know how you liked your coffee, so I just brought some of everything-  oh my god!” Lance cries, “what is this amazing bed hair? Keith, it’s _everywhere;_ how do you control this?” 

“Huh, what- no! Leave it alone, stop looking at it,” Keith begs, batting at Lance’s hands when they come up to pull at his hair. “Ah, hey, Lance, stop!”

Lance sticks his fingers into Keith’s hair as Keith shrieks, pushing at his arms and his chest to get him away. Lance just presses even closer, pulling strands every which way, causing them to stick up even more. Keith retaliates by sticking his own fingers into Lance’s hair and pulling, hard, causing Lance to yelp and jerk away.

“You’re on, Kogane,” he threatens, and then he grabs Keith by the ribcage. Keith squeals, arms and legs working to shove Lance away from him. Lance tickles down his sides and over his stomach, impressively dodging Keith’s attacks.

“Lance, Lance, oh my god,” Keith pants, “oh my god, I’m gonna pee myself. I swear; I’m gonna piss myself in your bed and it’s gonna be your fault.”

Lance just continues his assault, seizing Keith’s foot and brushing his fingers over the sole, giggling as Keith continues to shriek. Keith is flailing, struggling under Lance’s hands.

“ _Okay, Keith, find a game plan,”_ he thinks, _“…got it.”_

Keith relaxes into the mattress slightly and plants both feet on the bed, waiting for Lance to come closer before popping his right hip up. He sends Lance flying off sideways and winds up sitting above him, his knees bracketing Lance’s hips. Lance blinks up in shock.

“Oh, you’ve mounted me.”

Keith presses his palm to his forehead. “Please, for the love of all that is holy, never say that again.”

“What? It’s true!” Lance replies. Keith just rolls his eyes and sits more firmly on Lance, leaning back to snag a cup of coffee from the side table, along with two sugar packets and a little cup of cream.

“Why do you have the little cup things? I didn’t think this apartment was a five-star resort,” he jokes as he pours sugar into his mug, discarding the wrappers on Lance’s chest.

“Oh, it’s an old habit. My mom used to steal those things from hotels and restaurants and stuff, and I just picked that up,” Lance explains. Keith just nods, still perched on top of Lance, and takes a sip of his coffee. 

“Do you wanna get off me, maybe?” Lance asks, wiggling his hips gently under Keith.

“Nope.”

“O-okay, then. I, um, I guess I’ll wait.”

 

“I really, 100 per cent do not trust you on this one,” Keith warns, arms crossed as he sits in Lance’s car.

“What? Why not?” Lance asks in mock offence as he smirks out into the road.

“Because it’s cold as a witch’s tit outside, and you’re making me wear a fricking bathing suit. I am perfectly allowed to be skeptical,” Keith insists, glaring at Lance’s dashboard and pouting slightly.

“Ah, quit your complaining, Keithboy,” Lance replies, “it’s not even that cold!”

“Lance, it’s fucking March! It is _winter_ , you soggy asscheek.”

Lance snorts. “Well, that’s a new one.”

“Lance, I’m serious! If this activity of yours requires swimming, then turn the car around right the fuck now. Go by yourself,” he declares, stubbornly turning his head to stare out the window.

“Okay, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again; just trust me,” Lance soothes, his smile still bright, but a little more gentle. “You do know how to swim, though, right?”

“Of course I know how to swim, you sentient lamppost,” Keith barks, “that doesn’t mean that I enjoy doing it in the middle of winter!”

“Keith, it’s literally going to be spring in like, six days.”

“Show me where I freaking asked, Lance,” Keith replies, still wary but a little happier now. Lance just beams at him.

 

**WEDNESDAY; 11:23 A.M.**

 

“Wait, what the hell is this?” Keith asks, frowning out of his window at the huge building. There are large windows, but they're positioned high up on the exterior walls and prevent Keith from looking though.

“It’s an indoor waterpark, Keithy,” Lance declares, pulling into a parking spot.

“Huh?”

“An indoor water park? What, have you never been to one?” Lance asks, cocking his head at Keith as he turns the car off.

“Lance, I’ve already told you, I had literally zero childhood,” Keith explains.

“That is a true tragedy,” Lance sighs dramatically, touching one hand to his chest and reaching out to pat Keith’s shoulder with the other.

“I’m kind of impressed that you’ve been to one of these places,” Keith admits, “it seems pretty fancy.”

“Yeah, well, we brought Benji up here for his birthday because he wanted to see the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and he and Josie are born in the same month. She wanted to go to a water park, so we took her here,” Lance says with a shrug.

“Wow, sounds like fun.”

“It was. It was also kind of a disaster, though; imagine six people, three of them under eighteen, all staying in my tiny apartment,” Lance chuckles. He unbuckles his seatbelt, gesturing for Keith to do the same, them opens his door to hop out of the car. “Oh, Keith, wait, wait, wait!”

“Huh? Lance, what is it?”

“Okay, so, you know how, in movies, people shut their car doors at the exact same time? I’ve always wanted to do that. I’m gonna count to three, and then let’s both slam the doors! One, two, three!”

They execute the move flawlessly.

 

“Keith! Will you let me braid your hair?” Lance asks excitedly as Keith stuffs his backpack into the locker that Lance bought.

“Do you know how? Because I quite like my hair; I don’t wanna have to shave it all off because you fuck it up.”

“Of course I know how to braid hair, you idiot,” Lance insists, “I have two younger sisters, dude. I am literally a hair artist, it’s not even funny.” 

“Go ahead, then. But if you mess it up, I’m shaving your head to make a wig,” Keith threatens, sitting down on the bench in front of Lance. Lance just grumbles, gently carding his fingers into Keith’s hair, sectioning it and tugging softly as he braids.

“Do you have an elastic?” he asks after a few minutes. Keith fumbles to pull one from his wrist, and his eyes are closed as he passes it over his shoulder. Lance takes it between his teeth. He works for a few more moments before Keith hears a phone camera click.  
“There, all done,” Lance announces, handing the phone around to Keith. Keith opens his eyes to look at the picture of the back of his own head.

“Oh, wow,” he breathes. The braid is surprisingly neat, capturing and taming his usually unruly hair. “Lance, that’s actually really good.”

“See, I told you,” Lance replies proudly. “You’re the one who doubted me.”

“Well, I guess I’ve been proven wrong,” Keith admits, standing. He catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the wall as he turns back to Lance. “Oh, but wait, I look like a chick.”

He and Lance both walk towards the mirror, Keith turning his head from side to side to examine his hair. Lance just shrugs.

“Hey, at least you’re a hot chick,” he says, “you know, despite that lack of boobs, and stuff.”

“Thanks?”

“No problem. Now, let’s bounce.”

 

The first thing Keith notices when Lance opens the door to the pool deck is screaming. Lots and lots of screaming, punctuated by the sound of rushing water and the heavy scent of chlorine.

“Whoa, it’s really loud,” he says. Lance looks back at him over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, of course it is. Keith. If you haven’t noticed, we’re the only adults here who aren’t accompanying a child, and children fucking love to scream,” he deadpans, “believe me, I know.”

“Oh,” Keith replies dumbly, biting his lower lip and blushing. Lance chuckles. 

“Are you nervous?” he asks, sending Keith a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, a little bit, I guess,” Keith admits, his cheeks flushing even brighter.

“You are adorable,” Lance declares, “and don’t be nervous. I’m here; it’s not like I’m going to let you drown or something.”

“Don’t call me adorable, I am a tough, strong, independent man,” Keith complains, pretending not to notice when Lance reaches back to link their hands. “And I’m nervous because I’ve never done this before, not because I think I’m going to drown.”

“Okay, cutie,” Lance teases. He guides Keith out further onto the pool deck, eyes flicking around the room to take it all in. “And there’s a whole ton of shit to do, so we’re just gonna do it all, okay? There’s a wave pool, there are- oh my god! Keith, there are slides! We’re doing the slides first, okay? Come on, come on, let’s go!”

“What- hey! Lance, slow down!” Keith protests even as he allows Lance to pull him along.

“Keith, oh my god, you are so slow,” Lance whines, “Come on, dude! I haven’t been to a water park in like, a year!”

“I haven’t been to a water park in like, my life!” Keith cries, “Lance, please, just pick the calmest slide or I might cry, heaven help me.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll go on a bitch slide first,” Lance agrees, tugging Keith forwards impatiently.

“Rude.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Lance replies with a happy eye roll, “and this slide isn’t too intense. How do you feel?”

“Lance, it has ‘Plunge’ in the name. That’s not very promising,” Keith says, tapping a finger on the sign in front of the ladder.

“Keith, it’s a plastic tube filled with water; I swear it’s not gonna hurt you. You know, as long as you’re over 40 inches tall,” Lance jokes, “are you over 40 inches tall?”

“Lance.”

“Keith.”

“I’m being serious,” Keith whines, tapping the sign again, more insistently this time. Lance pouts.

“Keith, you’re gonna be okay. It’s just a slide,” he whispers, “how about I go first to show you it’s not scary? And if it is scary and I die, well, you know the locker combination. Just get my keys and go back home; I’ll leave my car to you in the will.”

“Lance!” Keith cries, “that’s not funny!”

“Aww, Keithboy, I’m joking. And if you really don’t want to do the slides, that’s cool. There’s a wave pool and a hot tub and a ton of other stuff here, so…” Lance says, trying not to sound disappointed. Keith can see right through him.

“No, no, it’s okay. Give me a minute; I’m gonna- I’m gonna do this,” Keith decides, squeezing his eyes shut.

 _“C’mon, Keith, you can do it,”_ he tells himself, _“you’re a strong 20-year old man. Don’t you dare get taken down by a piddly little slide.”_

“Okay. You know what, I’ve got this. I’ve fucking got this. Lance, get out of my way, I’m getting on this mother-fucking slide,” he announces, his jaw set in determination. He starts pounding up the ladder before he can talk himself out of it, and he hears Lance’s footsteps right behind him. 

The slide guy stares at them incredulously as they reach the platform, like he’s never seen twenty year old men at the water park before. Which maybe he hasn’t, Keith doesn’t know and doesn’t care.

“The slide is one at a time,” he informs them, his stunned expression quickly fading to boredom.

“Yup, we know,” Lance replies, knees slightly bent as he catches his breath. It was a tall ladder.

“So who’s going first?”

“I am,” Keith declares, stepping forwards. The employee nods and gestures towards the rushing water at the foot of the slide, and Keith moves to sit in it.

“Okay,” Slide Guy announces, setting both hands on Keith’s back, “going in three, two, one!”

Keith positively shrieks.

The sound of rushing water fills his ears as his body goes flying, twisting and turning in the current. He thinks he’s screaming, but he’s not entirely sure. It’s terrifying and exhilarating, and it lasts all of six seconds before he’s dumped unceremoniously into the ending pool.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes, blindly following the lifeguard’s instruction to climb out of the pool. Moments later, Lance flies out of the slide, whooping as he goes, and Keith beams.

“So, how was that?” he asks as he swims towards Keith, who’s standing at the top of the ladder.

“Lance, that was amazing! I wanna do it again, come on, hurry up, let’s go!” Keith cries, grabbing Lance’s arms as he climbs up the ladder and nearly pulling him over.

“You were screaming the entire way,” Lance chuckles, the excitement on his face matching Keith’s. 

“It was exhilarating!” Keith cheers, his eyes gone wild and manic. “That was so much fun!”

“I told you so,” Lance says with a smirk. “Let’s do that yellow one.”

They run those two slides for a little while, enough that the park workers recognize them, as Keith gets the hang of the whole water park thing.

“Keithboy, I have a great idea,” Lance declares giddily as Keith climbs up the pool ladder. He points excitedly at three holes in one of the walls, indicating the exits of three parallel slides. “Let’s have a race.”

“What?” Keith asks hesitantly, squeezing water out of the tail of his braid. It’s held up surprisingly well; Keith is kind of shocked by Lance’s craftsmanship.

“A race, Keith. One of us in each slide, going at the same time, and whoever pops out at the end first wins!” Lance clarifies, his eyes crinkling with the size of his smile.

“How do we control that, though?” Keith wonders.

“We don’t! It’s the luck of the slide, Keith,” Lance announces, “now let’s do it.” He snags Keith’s wrist, pulling him over towards the stairway.

“Oh my god, there are so many stairs,” Keith groans when they’re about halfway. Lance just nods in agreement, having dropped Keith’s hand to help pull himself up. 

“That… was worth it,” Lance pants when they finally get there, and Keith can’t help but agree. The view from the platform of these slides is amazing, offering Lance and Keith a complete panoramic of the park. It takes Keith’s breath away.

“Are you guys doing a race?” the park employee asks them.

“Yeah,” Lance breathes as he stares out at the park in awe; a dumb, amazed look on his face.

“Okay, cool,” Slide Lady says. Then she taps Keith’s chest lightly and leans in to whisper, “the pink slide always wins.”

Keith beams, chuckling and mouthing a “thanks” at her.

“Okay, boys, choose your slides,” she declares. Keith beelines for the pink one while Lance takes the green one. “I’ll count you in. Okay: three, two, one!”

This slide is different than the other ones, closed in at the top to create a complete tube. It’s a lot darker, and Keith can hear his own shrieking echoing around him. It’s a little more claustrophobic as well, but he doesn’t really mind. And, when he emerges a full three seconds before Lance, well, he’s not complaining.

“Wait, wha- huh?” Lance cries when he flops out of the slide. “Come on, I thought I had that one!”

“Beginner’s luck,” Keith replies, feigning innocence with a shrug and a bat of his eyelashes. Lance glares at him distrustfully.

“You little demon; you cheated, didn’t you!” he accuses, poking Keith in the chest with an outstretched finger.

“Yes, Lance, I totally cheated at a waterslide race,” Keith says flatly. Lance glares even harder.

“I demand a rematch,” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

“You really wanna walk up those stairs again?”

“Okay, good point,” Lance admits, “but I still want a rematch later. You hear me, Kogane?”

“Loud and clear, McClain.”

 

**WEDNESDAY; 3:18 P.M.**

 

“Ready for that rematch?” Lance asks, poking Keith’s cheek to get his attention.

They’ve moved to the hot tub to relax for a while and calm their tense muscles. Also, Keith wasn’t keen on getting back into the waterslides immediately after eating lunch; throwing up into one of the ending pools wasn’t really part of his plan for the day. He’s completely content to stay in the hot tub for a little longer- after all, it’s peaceful and separated from all of the children- but Lance is getting antsy.

He doesn’t know how Lance has so much energy. They’d been riding that water slides for over an hour and a half, and then they spent an additional hour in the wave pool before stopping to get some food. Keith’s thighs are still burning from all the activity, despite the hot water.

Keith cracks open one closed eyes to glance sideways at Lance. “But I’m relaxing,” he whines, exaggerating a yawn and stretching his arms up, drops of water falling over his skin.

“You’ve been relaxing for like, forty minutes,” Lance retaliates, “and I thought you were dead for like thirty of them. C’mon, Keith, you’re too young to be this sedentary. Get up and have a waterslide race with me while you’re still young,” he says, rising and grabbing Keith by the elbow to pull him up. Keith grumbles halfheartedly as they wade towards the steps of the hot tub, not at all bothered. 

“You have to carry me up the ladder,” Keith announces with an overdone and childish pout as they approach the slide.

“Sorry, Keith,” Lance replies with an eye roll, “I would, but I quite enjoy living and being alive, so…”

“Fine,” Keith whimpers, his eyes comically big as he stares up the ladder. Lance just chuckles as Keith continues to be a drama queen.

They start climbing up the ladder, Keith grumbling jokingly with every step, and Lance just laughs and taunts him.

“You scared to get your ass kicked, Kogane?” he teases. Keith’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he’s matching Lance’s shit-eating smirk.

“You wish I was scared, McClain.”

Keith beelines for the pink slide again, and he beats Lance again. And again. And again. Once more, and then Lance gets smart.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he declares as Keith makes for the pink slide, grabbing Keith by the waist to hold him back. “I’m taking the pink slide this time.”

“Huh- Lance! No, that’s my slide!” Keith argues, struggling to shake free from Lance’s grip. Lance just squeezes tighter, pulling Keith towards his body, and Keith feels a blush rise up on his neck.

_Wait, what?_

Keith likes guys, that’s not news to him. But Lance? No way, Lance is in the opposite of Keith’s interests. Lance is like a giant child, immature and stupid and impulsive and overly loud. He’s the polar opposite of Keith, there’s no way that Keith likes him; it’s just not possible.

Except here he is, his back to Lance’s chest, and he almost wishes that Lance would kiss him.

 _“Dammit, gay,”_ he thinks aggressively, _“get back in your hole, I don’t want to deal with you right now.”_

“F-fine,” he breathes, mentally begging Lance to just let him go before something embarrassing happens. Lance doesn’t seem to notice Keith’s struggle, so he just whoops and heads for the pink slide. Keith is dazed as he sits down in the yellow one, and he almost misses the start of the race.

“Yes!” Lance hollers, slapping the water. He beat Keith by two seconds, and he’s making it seem like they were the best two seconds of his life. 

“Congrats,” Keith says jokingly, fighting a smile onto his lips. His mind is still reeling; he hopes it doesn’t show. 

“Now I know your secret weapon!” Lance declares, “I knew you weren’t just beating me by luck!”

“Well, it could’ve been by physics or something. I am lighter than you, after all,” Keith points out, “and now we can’t race again; we’ll just be fighting for the pink slide. That’s no fun.”

“Oh, true,” Lance replies, his eyes flicking over towards the ladder. “Oh well, those slides were getting old anyway.”

“So what do you want to do now, then?”

“There are two slides in that little fort thing that we haven’t tried yet?” Lance suggests, not waiting for an answer before he’s pulling Keith over. Keith’s smile grows more and more genuine with each step; Lance’s raw enthusiasm excites him.

 

They run through the slides on the little fort for another forty minutes, having stupid  competitions to see who could climb the stairs quicker, who could make the biggest splash, who could ride the most slides in five minutes, and Keith is having a blast. The thought of kissing Lance is still in his head but it’s not front and centre anymore; it just lies patiently in the back of his mind, harmless until further notice.

“Okay,” Lance announces, “we’re gonna go home soon.”

“What? No, no way, I’m not leaving. Not now, not ever,” Keith declares, stomping his foot childishly and nearly slipping with the force of it. Lance snorts in amusement but his arm still comes up, holding Keith around the ribcage to steady him.

“We’ve gotta,” he replies apologetically, “it’s 4:30 right now, it’ll take an hour to get back to my apartment and another hour to get cleaned up, and I’m gonna take you to dinner tonight.”

“Wait, what? No, you’re not,” Keith insists, “I’m gonna take you to dinner. You’ve been paying for me for this entire ordeal; you’re gonna go broke at this rate.”

“I’m not gonna go broke, Keith, don’t worry about it,” Lance says with a fond, if somewhat amused, smile. “But, if you’re going to insist on it, then let’s take each other to dinner, okay?”

Keith pouts around his own smile and rolls his eyes. “Fine, okay. Let’s get going, then.”

“Oh, wait, no, not yet,” Lance declares, “there’s one more thing I want to do.”

Keith raises an eyebrow in surprise as Lance grabs his wrist and starts dragging him across the pool deck, stopping in front of the sign for a slide.

This slide, named ‘Rendezvous Run’- which sounds really gay, if you ask Keith- is massive, larger than any of the other slides that they’ve been on, and Keith gulps. Lance’s eyes are sparkling, though, so Keith can’t bring himself to complain as Lance tugs him up the stairs. He still huffs a sigh of relief when he discovers that the slide is for two people; there’s no way that he would’ve been able to do it himself.

“You can sit behind me if you’re scared,” Lance whispers, just loud enough for Keith to hear, as though he’d read Keith’s mind. Keith smiles and mouths a “thank you” at him.

“Alright, next,” the slide operator says, ushering Lance and Keith forwards with a lazy wave of his arm. Lance plops down on the tube and Keith climbs on behind him, his shoulders tense with nervous anticipation.

“Hold on to me,” Lance instructs quietly, and Keith doesn’t need and more prompting. He wraps his arms tightly around Lance’s waist and presses in close, his feet resting on either side of Lance’s knees.

“Three, two, one,” the employee says before shoving the tube and sending them off. Keith presses his mouth hard to Lance’s shoulder, muffling his screams into Lance’s skin, as Lance whoops and hollers. Keith’s chest feels light, filled with adrenaline, the heat in his stomach bubbling over, and he squeezes tighter around Lance, even as he moves his mouth from Lance’s shoulder.

He can’t deny it; this is fun.

They crash into the ending lane before Keith is ready, and there are hands reaching for him, helping him climb off the tube and stand steady on the ground. He feels Lance’s grip on his elbow, gently guiding him away from the slide and the employees standing there.

“I wanna do that again,” Keith breathes, dazed, his eyes bright and wild. Lance matches his expression, though he looks a little less breathless, and his eyes flick over towards the start of the slide.

“Me, too,” he agrees softly, “but the line got huge, and we gotta go home.” 

Keith just whimpers softly in response, but he lets Lance lead him towards the door to the change rooms. He dries, strips and redresses automatically, almost mindlessly, and then they’re leaving, Lance’s hand in his to guide him along. Keith slowly blinks his mind out of it’s adrenaline-fuelled fuzz, and he shakes his head a few times to try and clear it.

“We’ve gotta come back here,” he says as he tosses his backpack into the backseat of Lance’s car. Lance looks at him from over the roof, then shakes his head and chuckles before climbing in. “Hey, what? Why’re you laughing at me?”

“You bitched for like, 10 minutes about swimming in the winter, and now you wanna come back?” Lance teases, raising a taunting eyebrow at Keith, who just crosses his arms and pouts.

Lance chuckles some more as he backs out of his spot and makes his way around the parking lot.

“I agree, though,” he says, “we should definitely come back. Maybe bring Hunk, and your friends.”

“Yeah, that’d be fun,” Keith replies around a yawn. His eyelids start growing heavy out of nowhere, and his head lolls to the side. “Really, really fun,” he mumbles, and then he’s out.

Lance has seen cute. He has three younger siblings, a little nephew, and an even littler niece. He’s seen kittens, and puppies, and overly sappy weddings, and Disney movies with inspiring endings, but he’s never seen anything as adorable as a sleepy Keith. He’s curled up in the passenger’s seat, turned partially sideways with his left foot propped up on the seat, his head tucked up against his shoulder. Soft snores and little sounds- possibly word fragments, Lance isn’t sure, but he still thinks it’s cute as hell- escape his partially open mouth, and his incredibly long eyelashes fan elegantly over his cheeks.

Lance is dying.

He reaches down with one hand, grabbing the hoodie he keeps under the driver’s seat in case of emergencies, and awkwardly drapes it over Keith’s body. Then he turns the radio up ever so slightly, setting his eyes on the road and settling in for the rest of the drive.

 

**WEDNESDAY; 7:23 P.M.**

 

“Okay, but I’m just saying that the Malfoys were not bad people-“

“Okay, but you’re just an idiot.”

They’re sitting in a little Italian restaurant near Lance’s apartment, arguing around a pepperoni, bacon, and pineapple pizza.

“They are not bad people! Cowardly, yes, but not evil! They genuinely love their son, and they only tried to do what’s best for him! Narcissa helped Harry; he’d’ve died without her!” Keith insists.

“Draco was scared of them, Keith!” Lance replies.

“He was not,” Keith declares, “and they loved him! They were two of the most hated people in the entirety of the wizarding community of Europe, and yet they still ran around, defenceless and screaming for their son, in the middle of the Battle of Hogwarts! Anyone could’ve killed them, and everyone had the motive to! They put their lives on the line for Draco; if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

“Lucius tried to kill Dobby,” Lance growls, his arms crossed over his chest as he glares at Keith.

“Yeah, and that was a dick move,” Keith admits, his hands raised in surrender, “but it doesn’t make him a bad person. He just made a bad decision. But he had the right intention for everything he did.”

“He one hundred per cent, absolutely did not have the right intention,” Lance replies, “and we should end this conversation before we start throwing punches."

“That’s probably a good idea,” Keith agrees, “but-”

“Oh, no.”

“Hey, shut up, just one more question. Do you think Snape was a good person?”

Lance recoils, his hands smacking on the table as he stares at Keith. “No, what the fuck? Snape was a shitty excuse for a human being who mentally traumatized a bunch of children because he was friend-zoned,” he declares with a set jaw. “Please, for the love of god, tell me that you agree with me.”

“I do, I do,” Keith replies, raising a calming hand. “If you thought he was a good person, I would’ve left. Like, immediately. So thank fuck.”

“Thanks, fuck,” Lance replies, a shit-eating grin rising on his face as Keith glares.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he mumbles, the angry set to his eyebrows failing to hide his amused smile.

“No, you’re not.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

 

**THURSDAY; 10:17 A.M.**

 

“Well, somebody sleeps a lot,” Lance teases as Keith walks into the kitchen, scruffy and with a halo of hair tangled and wild around his head.

“You’ve literally pointed that out every single day this week,” Keith complains, “yes, Lance, I know I sleep a lot. Did you know that you’re annoying?”

“Aww, someone’s grumpy,” Lance jokes, handing Keith a mug. “I think I know how you take your coffee, but if I messed up, you can just give it to me.” Keith nods, taking the coffee with a half-smile and a yawn.

Lance is melting.

Keith had forgotten to pack pyjamas when he was getting ready to come here, meaning that he’s been sleeping in nothing but boxers and one of Lance’s old sweaters. Meaning that, right now, he’s walking around Lance’s apartment with the overly large sweater drooping off one shoulder and completely covering his underwear, and Lance’s chest is caving in. He wants to run his hands down Keith’s thighs, to wrap his arms around Keith’s waist and hold him while he’s still sleepy and warm. He wants Keith; wants him so badly that he might scream.

_“Holy shit, I am so gay.”_

“I didn’t know what you wanted for breakfast, but I literally only have Lucky Charms and three eggs, so you don’t really have much choice,” Lance says with a shrug.

“Wait, Lucky Charms?” Keith asks, sleepy eyes widening suddenly in excitement.

“Um, yeah?”

“Holy shit,” Keith breathes, “can I have some? Please?”

“Have you never had Lucky Charms before?” Lance replies, flipping open the cabinet above his microwave to grab the cereal.

“No! Oh my god, Lance, I’m freaking-”

“Wait, wait wait wait wait wait; hold up.” Lance says, frozen halfway through pouring cereal into a bowl. “You’ve never had Lucky Charms? Keith Kogane, where the ever-loving fuck was your childhood?”

“Long story short: Shiro been in charge of shopping since he was like, sixteen, and he never bought it because he’s really healthy and all that shit,” Keith explains, eyes bright and trained on the red box in Lance’s hand.

Lance frowns into the bowl as he pours milk into it. “But what about your parents?”

“Even longer story,” Keith replies, his face falling ever so slightly. Lance just nods, grabbing the bowls and some spoons and moving to sit at his tiny kitchen table. He keeps his eyes on Keith as he excitedly takes the bowl, his grey eyes glowing purple in the light from the window, and it’s like watching somebody live out their dreams from the past. Lance thanks whatever gods that are out there that he’s allowed to have this experience with Keith, that they were brought together by the most random of coincidences.

Keith is beautiful, and Lance wants to give him everything, be near him everyday, hold him close and make him feel loved. Lance wants Keith.

 

“Hey, Lance, could you loan me a t-shirt?” Keith asks, leaning against the doorway of the living room.

“Hmm? Oh sure, but what happened to yours?” Lance asks, and if Keith were any smarter, he might’ve caught the blush that rose up on Lance’s cheeks. If Lance were any smarter, he might’ve realized that Keith’s chest was flushed pink as he stood shirtless in the doorway. Unfortunately, they’re both idiots.

“I accidentally brought one of Allura’s and it’s cute and all, but it’s not really my style…” Keith replies with a smile, thinking back to the black t-shirt with ‘Boss Ass Bitch’ written in pink, sparkly script on the chest.

Lance chuckles. “Second and third drawers of the dresser, help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Keith heads back to Lance’s bedroom, pulling open his drawers to examine his t-shirt collection. There are band shirts, various other graphics, and a selection of solids in shades of blue and white and grey. He starts flicking through them, looking for something that suits his style.

“Hey, Lance,” he calls.

“Yeah?” Lance shouts back

“Why the _fuck_ is there a Hufflepuff shirt in your drawer?”

“It’s Hunk’s, don’t kill me!”

Keith rolls his eyes, looking back to the shirts and rifling through them with vague interest.

“Holy shit, how many t-shirts does this guy have?” he whispers to himself before his eyes settle on a white one. It has blue trim around the sleeves and neck with ‘Getting Bi’ printed across the front in blue, purple, and pink, and Keith nearly chokes.

“ _Yes, oh my god,”_ he thinks, suddenly growing excited. This shirt doesn’t mean that Lance likes him, not at all, but it means that Keith has a chance. He clutches the fabric between his fingers and beams, feeling like he might squeal.

“Keith?” Lance asks, tapping on the door, “you alright?”

Keith screeches at the sudden sound, jumping and dropping the shirt. He hears Lance laugh outside and the doorknob turns, so he hurriedly grab the first shirt he touches.

“Hmm, yeah, I’m just slow,” he says as nonchalantly as possible as Lance walks in. He examines the shirt that he grabbed; plain navy, soft and a little old-looking, and shrugs.

 _“It works,”_ he thinks, pulling it on as Lance heads towards the bathroom. Then he flops down on Lance’s bed, stretching with a groan and a whimper.

“You ready to go?” Lance asks, stepping out of the bathroom and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Keith rolls his shoulders and raises both legs in the air, stretching out a little more before struggling back up to his feet.

“Yup, but where are we going today? ‘Cause if it’s another day like yesterday, I’m probably gonna die. My legs still hurt from all the stairs,” Keith whines.

“Okay, honestly, mine do too,” Lance admits, “so today’s gonna be pretty chill, I promise.”

“I really, one hundred per cent do not believe you,” Keith replies. Lance just rolls his eyes, grabbing Keith by the shoulders to turn him around and push him through the door.

 

**THURSDAY; 12:39 P.M.**

 

“Is this not just a regular mall?” Keith asks, frowning out the window as they pull into the parking lot. His face falls just a bit; he’s never really liked malls. They’re huge, and loud, and generally not his favourite place to be.

“That’s exactly what it is; a regular mall,” Lance announces, “I need to go shopping, so I thought I’d take you along; maybe treat you to something sparkly.”

“Well, I would love something sparkly,” Keith jokes, rolling his eyes. He can suck it up, he decides. Maybe going to the mall with Lance will be fun.

“Damn right you would,” Lance replies, shutting the car off and moving to hop out. “Oh, wait, keep your door shut,” he instructs as Keith starts to open it. Keith just frowns and pulls is shut again, watching through the windshield as Lance bounds around the front of the car. He opens Keith’s car door with a bow and offers Keith his hand as he climbs out.

“Uh, thanks,” Keith says, his eyebrow raised even as he takes Lance’s hand. Lance shuts the door behind him and drops Keith’s hand, only to guide it up around his elbow.

“Shall we go, m’dude?” he asks in the dumbest English accent Keith’s ever heard.

“We shall,” he replies, his accent equally as dumb.

 

“By ‘treating you to something sparkly,’ I actually meant ‘buying you a shirt that’s not a 5 year old t-shirt,’” Lance says as they enter the mall through a Macy’s outlet, “and seeing as we’ve got no real money, we’re gonna do it here. Macy’s is always a good bet for inexpensive and vaguely nice items.”

“What are you, a white mom?” Keith jokes, still holding Lance’s elbow as Lance guides him through the department store.

“Um, yes? What did you think I was all this time?”

Keith just rolls his eyes, and Lance drags him into the men’s section. 

“Lance, Jesus Christ, all of those shirts are ugly,” he points out when Lance beelines for a rack of Hawaiian button-button downs.

“I know,” Lance replies with a smirk, “I said I was buying you a shirt; I never mentioned anything about a nice shirt.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Keith chuckles, grabbing Lance’s wrist to drag him away. He starts idly flicking through racks, regarding various shirts with mild interest and ignoring each and every one of Lance’s suggestions. “I dunno, Lance, dress shirts aren’t really my thing, I- _oh.”_

“Keith? What is it?” Lance asks, dragging his feet ever so slightly as Keith pulls him forward.

“Dude, what are- oh! Okay!”

Keith’s hands are on a plain black shirt with white pockets, the material shining faintly in the florescent lights as he turns it over in his grip.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, “this is a nice shirt.”

Lance raises his eyebrow for just a moment, and then he loses it. He starts cackling, hand gripping around Keith’s shoulder to hold himself up. Keith jumps in surprise, eyes wide and bewildered as he stares at Lance.

“Oh my god, Lance, what the fuck?” he screeches, “begone, demon, the power of Christ compels you!”

“Keith, I’ve just- I’ve never- so excited- a shirt!” Lance wheezes, dropping to his knees on the floor. Keith can feel eyes on them, and his face flushes as he gently kicks Lance in the ribcage.

“Lance, get up, you’re embarrassing,” he begs, kicking Lance again. Lance pants, continuing to wheeze as he rises and grabs the shirt from Keith’s hands.

“Oh my god, sorry, ‘m sorry, I’ve just- I’ve never seen someone get so excited over a shirt,” he chuckles, shaking his head a few times. “It’s a nice shirt, though, good eye. You gonna try it on?”

“What?” Keith asks, raising his eyebrow. He hadn’t been planning on buying anything, just on looking around, so why should he try it on?”

“What do you mean, what?” Lance replies, “I mean try it on, Keith. So you know if it’s the right size before you get it.” 

“Lance, I have like, no money,” Keith admits softly, his eyes shifting away from Lance’s face as he bites his lip.

“That’s not an issue.”

“What, are you my sugar daddy or something now?” Keith asks, crossing his arms.

Lance laughs. “We haven’t had enough sex to be able to call it that. But I’ve got cash, and you need something nice to wear tomorrow, so go put the shirt on you stubborn little shit.”

“Wait, what? What do are we doing tomorrow?” Keith demands, frowning as his eyes dart back to Lance’s.

“Oh, don’t worry about it; it’s nothing,” Lance replies with a cocky smirk. Keith glares at him.

“Lance, no, that’s illegal. You can’t just tell me that something’s happening and then not tell me what it is,” he whines. Lance’s smirk doesn’t fall as he brings his fingers up to his own lips, pretends to zip them, and throws the “key” over his shoulder. Keith scowls.

“You’re a dick.”

“I know,” Lance replies simply, hooking the hanger of the shirt around his finger. “Now let’s continue.”

They wander through the Macy’s for a while, Lance idly looking through the racks as Keith follows behind him like a bored child. They’re nearing the edge of the men’s section when Lance gets and idea.

“Hey, Keithboy,” he says, “five bucks says you can’t walk ten steps in a pair of heels.”

Keith takes the bet without even thinking, and Lance eagerly leads him to the shoe section. Keith disappears into the shelves, returning a few minutes later with with a pair of fire engine red heels on his feet.

“Hey, McClain,” he taunts as he walks up and down the row in front of Lance, “I think you owe me.” 

The shoes are about five inches tall with a slight platform, the red blaring against Keith’s skin, and they force his entire body to work as he struts around victoriously. Lance is choking.

_“That was such a bad idea, what the fuck, he’s so hot, how has he not fallen over?”_

Keith moves to sit beside Lance on the bench he’s inhabiting, shamelessly swinging his legs across Lance’s and twisting his ankles, the shine of the shoes catching the fluorescents in the store.

“How do you know how to walk in those?” Lance chokes out, trying to pretend like he isn’t dying.

“It’s kind of a funny story, actually,” Keith replies, “so my friend Allura and I have the same shoe size, right? Actually, we’re the same size in a lot of things… but anyway; I digress. She almost always takes me shoe shopping with her, and she makes me try on the shoes that she likes so she can get an outsider’s perspective on them. I used to complain about it a lot, but then I just got used to it. I guess it came in handy today, too. I feel like I could walk a mile in these.”

“Wait, you have the same shoe size as a girl you know? Dude, how small are your feet?” Lance asks in disbelief.

“Uh, men’s size seven,” Keith says.

“Wait, what?” Lance cries, grabbing one of Keith’s feet from his lap to inspect it. “Oh my god, Keith, this is the smallest, daintiest foot I have ever seen.”

“What- hey, fuck off, let go of my foot,” Keith whines, “Lance, I’m Asian, I’m allowed to have small feet!”

“Whatever you say, tiny toes.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Not at all, baby feet,” Lance replies with a shitty grin, “now take these off. As lovely as they are - and they are lovely - we should probably start moving along.”

What Lance really meant was: _“Take off the goddamn heels before I spring a super awkward boner.”_

Keith grumbles a little, leaning across Lance to gently pull the heels off of his feet, and Lance flushes bright pink. He’s so close, he could lean over right now and kiss Keith’s cheek, or his ear, or the side of his neck, just above where it meets his shoulder. Or he could shove Keith off onto the ground and demand for Keith to square up with him.

In the end, he does neither.

“So, this Allura, huh-“

“Don’t even start, Shiro’ll fucking end you if you hit on her,” Keith warns with a flat expression as they make their way out of the shoe section.

“Wha- hey!” Lance cries in mock offence, “that was not at all what I was going to ask! I was going to ask if she makes you try anything else on, you know, before you so rudely interrupted me.”

“Oh, um,” Keith replies sheepishly, “a lot of stuff, to be honest. My shoulders are a lot bigger than hers, so no shirts or anything, but pretty much everything else.”

“Everything else could mean a lot of things, Keith,” Lance says, his voice lilting suggestively as he raises his eyebrows. Keith slaps his arm.

“Nothing, like, weird!” he insists, “like, jeans, and stuff. Leggings, skirts…” he mumbles, his ears pink as his voice trails away.

Lance is just as red as Keith is.

“I’m gonna have to see that someday,” he breathes aloud, accidentally.

“Huh?” Keith asks, “what did you say?”

Alarms start blaring in Lance’s head as he chokes out an,  “oh, nothing,” through clenched teeth.

Keith just cocks his head as Lance’s mind starts crumbling.

 

**THURSDAY; 2:04 P.M.**

 

Bookstores are, and always have been, Keith favourite parts of malls. They’re quiet, and nicely lit, and always smell like fresh paper and ink, and Keith loves them.

He’s curled up in a chair, a copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ in his hands as he reads through it idly. He’d read it in tenth grade English, and remembers it being pretty good, but he can’t remember any of the plot. It’s on sale for three dollars, though, so he might as well buy it.

Lance had disappeared into the comics and manga section over fifteen minutes ago, and Keith is scared to go in and find out what Lance is up to. He’s sitting close enough to hear the occasional chuckle or excited gasp from somewhere down the aisle, and he just rolls his eyes every time.

 _“It’s kind of cute,”_ he thinks, his lips cocked in a half-smile as he stares off in Lance’s general direction, _To Kill a Mockingbird_ hanging idly off his fingers.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance calls from the aisle, “I need help.”

Keith frowns, setting his own book down and walking toward the sound of Lance’s voice.

_“Oh my god, no fucking way.”_

Lance is surrounded by dozens of books, stacked up on the floor around him, the piles reaching up to his knees. It’s all manga, the characters posed intensely on the shiny covers.

“What the fuck, Lance?” Keith asks, “this has to be like, $400 dollars of nothing but Shounen manga!”

“Well, yeah- wait! What makes you think it’s Shounen!” Lance demands, crossing his arms childishly.

“Lance,” Keith starts flatly, grabbing a book from the top of one of Lance’s piles, “it literally says ‘Shounen Jump’ on the spine.”

“Well, um- okay, fine, you got me,” Lance surrenders, “but this isn't all just for me, I promise. Hunk and I have a shared library, I’m just stocking up.”

“How do you have the money for all this?”

“I have my ways,” Lance replies.

“Okay, tell me right now,” Keith whispers, stepping into Lance’s personal space. “Do you kill people?”

What- no! Keith, was that a joke?” Lance sputters, his shoulders coming up in defence. Keith laughs.

“You really didn’t sound convinced,” he accuses with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Lance is blushing bright pink; Keith ignores it.

“I promise that I don’t kill people,” Lance repeats with a little more vindication, visibly relaxing as Keith steps away from him.

“Then where’d you get the money?” Keith asks again, his tone light and joking as he pops his hip out and bats his eyelashes at Lance in mock persuasion.

“From your mom,” Lance replies, his lips turned down in exaggerated disgust. 

Keith rolls his eyebrows. “Fuck off.”

“Help me,” Lance requests.

“No.”

“Help me!”

“Nope.”

“Help me?”

“Fine.”

Lance’s bill winds up being $473, but neither of them mention it.

 

“We haven’t eaten anything healthy in like, six days,” Lance declares, “that’s it. I’m calling Hunk.”

“Huh? Why?” Keith asks from where he’s sprawled out on the couch, watching Lance with idle curiosity.

“Hunk is a kitchen genius,” Lance explains, “like, if Gordon Ramsay was nice, he’d be Hunk. So I’m gonna ask him to take me through his fucking fantastic stir-fry recipe, step by step, so I don’t poison you.”

“Thanks?” Keith replies, his eyebrows raised even as he smiles. He gets up, somewhat reluctantly, and joins Lance in the kitchen as Lance unlocks his phone.

“Lance? Hey, what’s up?” a voice - Hunk’s, Keith assumes - asks groggily.

“Hunk! Were you sleeping?” Lance replies, his eyes brightening at the sound of Hunk’s voice.

“Yeah, actually, you damp sock,” Hunk replies in mock annoyance. “What do you need?”

“Your stir-fry recipe,” Lance says, “I haven’t eaten anything healthy in literally six days; Hunk, I can feel my internal organs dying, my body giving in, my ageing process quickening…”

“Hold your horses, drama queen, I’ll give you my recipe,” Hunk chuckles. And then he’s spewing out directions at a violent speed, with Keith and Lance both scrambling to keep up.They wind up working side by side, following Hunk’s directions as best as they can, the stir-fry becoming a team effort as they struggle to follow along. By the end of the cooking extravaganza, they’re both exhausted, sweaty, and panting. Hunk just laughs through the phone line.

“I should’ve warned you,” Lance wheezes, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter, “Hunk is a drill sergeant. Just be grateful that this was over the phone; if he was here he’d be smacking our asses with a ruler.”

“Wow, kinky, Lance,” Hunk teases, obviously far too pleased with the situation. Keith just scowls, even though he knows that Hunk can’t see him.

“Hunk, I swear to Jesus,” Lance mutters in mock annoyance. “Keith and I’ve gotta go. I love you, and thanks for the stir fry. See you on Monday!”

“Love you to- wait? Keith? You don’t mean”-

Lance hangs up, cutting Hunk’s sentence short. He scratches the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle.

“So, uh, anyways- that was Hunk,” he announces, grabbing two plates out of a cabinet and sliding stir fry out onto each. He silently gestures for Keith to grab forks as he moves to set their food at the table.

“He seems - um - energetic,” Keith replies, pushing loose hair away from his face. He’s never been a strong cook, so Hunk’s sudden bootcamp had sought him majorly off guard. He’s far more winded than he feels he should be. 

“Well, that’s one way to put it,” Lance agrees, “I, personally, would’ve said that he's a fucking maniac, but I love him, so that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. _“Loves… him? As in, best friends, right? Because, if not, I’m fucked.”_

“Keith?” Lance asks, having noticed the change in Keith’s face, “are you okay?” Genuine concern shines in his eyes, and Keith’s heart melts over Lance even more.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “I’m tired. Just tired.”

 

**FRIDAY; 3:34 A.M.**

 

Keith is trapped.

He can’t move, his legs aren’t working, and there’s a storm rushing around him. It shoves him around, forcing him to his knees, noise and darkness overwhelming him even as he struggles to block it out. He’s cowering on the ground, tears dripping down his cheeks, and the floor gives out under him.

He screams on his way down, flailing and struggling, but it’s no use.

“-ieth. Keith? Keith! Wake up, come on, Keith, I’m here.”

Keith eyes fly open, his chest heaving as his lungs fight for oxygen again, and reaches out towards the sound of Lance’s voice. He makes contact with Lance’s shoulder and grips tight, curling up towards him and shaking. Lance’s arms come up around him, holding Keith in close to his chest, soothing sounds coming from his lips as he rubs Keith’s back.

“Shh, shh, Keith, it’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe. Shh, I’m here,” he whispers, gently pushing Keith back to climb fully onto the bed. He holds Keith tightly, nearly pulling him into his lap, and rocks him as he cries.

Lance holds Keith for god knows how long, one hand around the back of his head and the other tracing up and down his side, cradling him into his chest. Keith is nearly as tall as Lance, and only a little bit thinner, but right now he feels so small. Lance continues to hold him, touching his back and his hair, whispering out condolences for the sole purpose of reminding Keith that he’s there, until he’s certain that Keith’s fallen back to sleep. He moves slowly as he sets Keith back down, gently sliding him off his lap and pulling his comforter up around him. He’s just about to climb off the bed when he feels Keith’s hand on his bare back.

“Lance, wait,” he breathes sleepily, “don’t- don’t go. Just stay with me tonight.”

Lance’s heart nearly stops, and he has to take a long, steadying breath before he can decide. He doesn’t even speak as he turns back around to Keith, sliding into bed beside him. Keith curls in close, and Lance struggles to breath as Keith’s arm slides over his chest to hook around his ribcage. His own arm wraps around Keith’s back, settling into the dip of his waist. Keith’s cheek rests against Lance’s chest, right over his heart, and they’re both out within minutes.

 

When Keith wakes up, he’s completely disoriented. His eyes burn, telling him that he’d been crying, and he’s still not in his own bed, but he’s mostly used to both of those things now. What’s new to him is the chest he’s been drooling on, and the arm wrapped firmly around his waist.

 _“What’s happening?”_ he wonders idly, settling back down against Lance. He can’t help himself; Lance’s chest is warm and solid, and Keith is still sleepy. He decides to just assume that they had sex for the time being, and he’ll ask Lance for the full story later.

 

Keith’s hair is soft against Lance’s chin, tickling a little as he shifts in his sleep, and Lance could die.

Of all possible mornings to wake up with a boner, it had to be this one, didn’t it?

“Keith?” he whispers softly, being careful not to startle him. Keith’s grey-violet eyes slowly blink open, looking up at Lance groggily. “I’ve gotta pee.”

Keith just scowls sleepily for a moment and rolls away from Lance to allow him to stand. “Come back,” he commands grumpily. Lance just chuckles.

 

They wind up in Lance’s bed all morning, drifting in and out of sleep, watching The Walking Dead on Netflix in the rare moments that they’re both awake.

“Hey, that guy sounds kinda like you,” Lance points out, gesturing to Glenn. Keith cocks his head in consideration.

“Hmm, yeah, he does,” Keith agrees, “weird. I’ve never noticed.”

“That’s really cool, like, you literally have the same voice!” Lance exclaims excitedly. Keith rolls his eyes.

“Okay, McClain; whatever you say, McClain,” he replies sarcastically.

“Wow, nice rhyme,” Lance comments, his hand fluttering where is rests above Keith’s waist. Keith instinctively shifts his weight off of Lance’s arm.

“Oh, yeah, totally, I’m literally just Eminem trapped in the body of a twenty year old Asian boy.”

“I knew it,” Lance replies before they both start giggling. 

“Oh, wait, Lance, it’s almost like, noon!” Keith exclaims after a while. “Is there an adventure today?”

“Hmm?” Lance asks, caught off guard. “Oh, yeah, totally. It just starts later in the day, so we’ll have to get up soon to get ready, but for now, we can just chill.”

“I must say, I’m really impressed,” Keith admits, “you actually managed to keep this up all week.”

“Oh, don’t start getting sappy on me now,” Lance replies, wiping away an imaginary tear from under his eye. “We’ve still got three more days, Kogane; I’m taking this week for all it’s got.”

“We’ll, I’m still looking forward to it, so make it good,” Keith replies, a challenge in his voice that Lance can’t refuse, his chin held up defiantly.

 _“I will, damn straight,”_ Lance thinks, _“this is gonna be the best week of your life.”_

 

 

**FRIDAY; 2:46 P.M.**

“Keith, hey, wake up,” Lance said softly, shaking Keith’s shoulder. Keith growls, squeezing his eyes shut and rolling his shoulder to tell Lance to fuck off.  Lance just laughs at him.

“Come on, Keith. Friday’s adventure awaits.”

Keith perks up at that, allowing his eyes to flicker open. “How long’ve I been sleeping for?”

“We’ve both been sleeping all morning,” Lance replies. “The last time we woke up, it was like, eleven.”

“Wow, we’re lazy as fuck.”

“Yup. But it’s time to get up now, so stop drooling on me,” Lance declares, slowly shoving Keith off of him and sliding out of bed. He looks back at Keith, chuckling when Keith pulls the comforter back over his shoulders and flops back down, before heading to the bathroom.

 _“Okay, what the fuck?”_ Keith wonders, wrapping Lance’s comforter even tighter around his shoulders. _“We lay in bed together all morning, is that not weird? That’s the kind of thing that lovers do, we’re not lovers? Are we lovers? Because, if we are, I never agreed to it, and sure, I’m down, but like- wait! I’m at least 90 per cent sure that we didn’t fuck, so that’s a start. But, like, what happened?”_

Keith rolls from his side to his back and pulls the comforter down from over his face to stare at the ceiling as he struggles to remember the previous night’s events.

 _“We went to the mall yesterday, right? Oh, yeah definitely, he made me wear those heels. And then we made stir fry and he might be in love with Hunk - further evidence that we didn’t fuck. So how the hell did he wind up in bed with me?”_ Keith’s mind is drifting, trying to find answers, when it stumbles across the remnants of paralyzed terror. _“Oh, fuck, that’s right, I had a nightmare, and he came in to give me a hug. But why did he stay?”_ Keith wonders, struggling to think. He remembers reaching out, his hand making contact with Lance’s soft skin, breathing out the words, “just stay with me tonight,” and he could choke.

“That is so embarrassing,” he whispers aloud, his cheeks flushed pink as he curls up onto his side again, his knees tucked up to his chest. “I can’t believe that I said that, that’s so freaking weird, oh my god.”

He lies there for a little longer, drowning in his embarrassment, the sounds of Lance going about his business in the bathroom the only noise in the apartment. 

Lance hums when he does idle things, like cleaning or combing his hair. He moves, too, small graceful movements of his hips and head, or soft tapping with his feet to the beat of whatever song he’s got stuck in his head. Keith loves it, not that he’d ever admit so.

Keith forces himself out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom door and knocking. Lance’s answers by unlocking the door and pulling it open, his toothbrush clenched lightly between his teeth. Keith just chuckles and steps around him, grabbing his own toothbrush. Lance joins him at the sink as he starts brushing his teeth, so they start a staring contest in the mirror. Lance loses, and Keith laughs at him, causing Lance to shove him with his shoulder. They fight like children, shoving and glaring at each other, and all of Keith’s embarrassment melts away. Being with Lance feels so natural to him, how could he possibly be bothered by it? Lance catches his eye in the mirror and flashes a huge, foamy smile, and Keith rolls his eyes but still smiles back.

Being close to Lance is almost like breathing now, easy and natural, necessary for Keith to live.

The realization almost gives Keith a heart attack.

 _“No, no, no way,”_ he thinks frantically, his mind racing in sudden panic, _“this can’t- we’ve only know each other for a week! This isn’t possible; it can’t be possible.”_

Keith’s being irrational, he knows it, but he still can’t stop his heart from pounding, panic bubbling up in his chest and threatening to strangle him.

Lance immediately spits his toothpaste, rinsing quickly before turning to grab Keith’s shoulders in both hands. “Keith, Keith, shh, look at me,” he whispers, grabbing the hand that’s still clutching Keith’s toothbrush. He drops the toothbrush into the sink and turns the water on.

“Keith, c’mon, spit,” he instructs, tugging gently on Keith shoulders to guide him, “you gotta spit or you’ll choke.” 

Keith mindlessly lets Lance guide him, his head still spinning as he spits into the sink. Lance holds a cup up to his lips, and Keith can barely comprehend what’s happening. He can’t get his thoughts under control, racing loud and dark inside his head.

_“I’m an idiot, I can’t do this. This is bad, this is bad, this is bad.”_

He forgets what he’s doing, nearly swallowing the water in his mouth before Lance works a thumb between his lips. Water spills down Keith’s chin and Lance’s wrist; neither of them notice.

“Keith, no, don’t swallow. C’mon, I’m here, just stay with me,” Lance says. When Keith’s spat out the water, Lance just guides him down to the floor, positioning Keith to sit between his legs.

“Keith, c’mon, just breath with me,” he whispers, sliding his grip from Keith’s shoulders to his hands. He presses Keith’s palms flat to his chest, breathing in deeply a few times. “Just follow me, Keith, come on, you’re doing great, just breath with me.” 

They sit on the bathroom floor for nearly fifteen minutes, Lance guiding Keith’s breathing with gentle reminders and words of encouragement. He doesn’t make Keith talk, doesn’t ask him what’s wrong, just holds his close until Keith can breathe again, until his mind stops racing and his pulse goes back to normal. Then Lance pulls him over to sit between his knees as Lance perches on the edge of his bathtub, combing through Keith’s hair far more gently than Keith ever does himself, and Keith allows himself to reconcile with his thoughts.

So, he likes Lance. As in, really likes Lance. Possibly loves Lance. And that’s okay. He’s dealt with heartbreak before, and it hurts like hell but it’s nothing that Mariah Carey and 4 pints of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream can’t fix. So, he’ll tell Lance on Sunday, after all of this is over. He’ll tell Lance that he’s in love with him, and Lance will let him down easy, and they never have to see each other again. And Keith will miss him, miss him so much it aches inside, but he can heal. He will heal.

In the meantime, he’s going to enjoy every minute with Lance like it’s his last. Because, in exactly 3,403 minutes, it will be.

 

**FRIDAY; 6:36 P.M.**

 

“I’m treating you to an actually nice dinner, with champagne and everything, so please, dear God, tell me you have a fake,” Lance says, later, rolling up the sleeves of his navy blue dress shirt. 

“Me, a good Christian boy?” Keith asks in mock offence before pulling out his wallet. “Of course I have a fake.”

He’s dressed to what he supposes he could call the nines - which really isn’t all that impressive when he compares it to other people - and he feels good. He’s in the black shirt that he’d bought yesterday, which is tucked into the waistband of his black jeans, sitting high on his hips. the silver of his belt buckle glinting in the dim light of Lance’s bedroom. Lance had pulled his hair back to sit above the base of his neck, his bangs framing his face far more attractively than he could ever arrange them himself, and he knows beyond a doubt that he’s going to get hit on tonight.

He looks good, but Lance looks amazing.

He’s in a plain navy blue dress shirt, which doesn’t really seem that exciting, but it’s stretched tight across his chest and rolled up to his elbow to reveal his - incredibly nice, Keith must admit - forearms, the blue a lovely contrast with his dark skin tone. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing off the jut of his collarbones, and Keith wants to lick him. He feels as though he might have a stroke of he keeps staring, so he diverts his attention to his phone as Lance makes a couple of adjustments. 

“Hey, Keith, c’mere,” Lance says, reclaiming Keith’s attention. Keith’s eyebrow raises as he walks over, and he nearly shrieks when Lance grabs him by the hips to spin him around. 

“Your tuck came out at the back,” Lance explains and, before Keith can even think, Lance’s fingers are sliding into the waistband of Keith’s jeans. Keith is about to die.

And, honestly, so is Lance.

He’d acted entirely without thinking, and now his hands are so close to Keith’s ass it’s not even funny. But he’ll milk this situation for all that it’s worth, taking his sweet time to fix the tuck of Keith’s shirt, relishing in the warm, soft skin of his back, just above the swell of his ass. Keith trembles when Lance’s fingers brush against him, and Lance has to take a deep breath before pulling his hands away. He just hopes that Keith doesn’t notice.

They’re both blushing like idiots when Keith turns back around, and he bites his lip and turns his head away so that he doesn’t have to look into Lance’s eyes.

“Your, umm- I fixed your shirt,” Lance says dumbly after a moment, breaking their silence. Keith’s eyes slip back to Lance’s and lock there for a moment, and then they’re both laughing.

“Well, I’d damn sure hope so!” Keith hollers, “you were touching my ass for like, twenty seconds!”

“I had to do what I had to do!” Lance shouts back, doubling over with his arm wrapped tight around his stomach. They howl like idiots, and the embarrassment in the room rushes away faster than Keith thought possible as they both collapse to the floor.

“Ah- oh my god, this hurts,” Keith whimpers through his laughter, tears welling up and spilling down his cheeks. His head falls to the side and he makes eye contact with Lance, which just sends them into more laughter. Lance rolls around, chortling loudly, and Keith pulls his knees up and over his chest as he heaves.

“Oh my god, we do this- way too much,” Lance pants, splaying out on the floor, his chest still shaking with remnants of laughter.

“Agreed,” Keith breathes, staring up at the ceiling. He sits up, wiping at the tears in his eyes, and looks over at Lance. He’s lying, completely disheveled, on the floor, with his shirt untucked and hitched up over his right hip and his hair wild around his head. Keith can’t help but smile softly, forcing himself up to his feet and reaching out a hand to pull Lance up.

“We’re definitely late,” Lance says, “but who gives a fuck? Come here, Keithboy; I need to fix your hair.”

 

They wind up late to their dinner reservation, but not so late that they lose their table, which is a relief. One of the snooty-looking waiters addresses them as “Mr. and Mr. McClain,” which embarrasses Keith to no end; he’s about to correct him when Lance just says, “yes, thank you.”

Keith doesn’t get why.

“Lance, this place is so fricking fancy; we one hundred per cent do not belong here,” Keith whispers after the waiter takes their orders. Lance just rolls his eyes and lifts his untouched champagne, gesturing for Keith to do the same.

“We belong here, and everywhere. Tonight is our night, Keith,” he says in earnest, “and we’re going to live it. So I raise this toast to you, and to me, and to wrong numbers and hangover smoothies and Quidditch matches. I raise this toast to us.”

It’s so beautiful, Keith could cry. Lance’s words cut into Keith’s chest, burrowing there and wrapping around Keith’s heart, and it’s going to hurt so much when he has to tear them out. Lance’s blue eyes are so bright, staring into Keith’s eyes like he sees the world in them, and it hurts, it hurts, _it hurts,_ but Keith loves it. Keith loves _him._

So he raises his glass to the third last night of his life.

 

**FRIDAY; 9:57 P.M.**

 

Sitting alone at a bar is always awkward, but sitting alone at a bar in a nightclub, completely surrounded by random and sweaty people, is just downright shitty. Lance in the bathroom, though, so Keith guesses he has to deal.

He’s staring emptily into his rum and Coke, counting evens down from 2000, just like he always does when he’s bored, when something warm and solid presses up against his back. He straightens up on the bar stool that he’s claimed.

“Hey, gorgeous,” a deep voice drawls into his ear, warm breath blowing over his neck. Keith winces, frozen in place by his nerves, as an arm drops down around his waist and the man steps up to his side. 

This guy has to be at least 15 years Keith’s senior, and is completely bald. He’s got a beard that looks like Guy Fieri’s, he’s taller and wider than Keith by a wide margin, and Keith would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified.

“Lemme buy you a drink?” he guy asks, not giving Keith the chance to reply before he’s throwing two fingers up to the bartender. Keith glares, not bold enough to do anything else, but the weird guy notices.

“Aww, come on, baby, what’s with the face?” he chuckles, grabbing Keith’s chin in one large, damp hand. Keith grimaces, pulling back with a scowl. “Don’t be like that, gorgeous, I bought you a drink, didn’t I?”

“I don’t want it,” Keith mutters softly, still trying to free himself from this guy’s grasp.

“What was that?”

“He said,” Lance growls angrily, coming up beside Keith out of nowhere, “that he doesn’t want it.”

“And who might you be?” Weird Guy asks, letting Keith go in favour of crossing his beefy arms over his chest. Keith scrambles off the bar stool to stand even closer to Lance.

“I’m his boyfriend,” Lance replies defiantly, suddenly reaching out to pull Keith to his chest. Keith is caught off guard but goes easily, allowing Lance to position him close to his body, his hand resting low on Keith’s back.

“Oh, really?” Weird Guy retorts, “well, gorgeous, I bet I could show you a better time than him.” 

Keith’s mouth drops in shock, his eyebrows raising as his grey eyes harden threateningly. With Lance beside him, the terror that had gripped Keith just moments ago starts ebbing away. He grabs the shot glass on the bar, still filled with tequila, and, without giving himself a chance to hesitate, splashes it up into the man’s face. Then he freezes in shock; his eyes locked on the empty shot glass in his hand and the pale yellow liquid streaming in rivulets down Weird Guy’s enraged face. Lance whoops in triumph.

“How’s _that_ for a good time?” Keith growls suddenly, catching himself off guard with his own words. He’s never been this bold; before today, he probably would’ve escaped this situation by excusing himself to the bathroom and then climbing out the window. Nailing someone in the face with a shot and then insulting them isn’t like him at all. He doesn’t care.

Lance grabs his hand, dragging him away from the bar quickly as the angry guy starts to hastily wipe tequila from his brow. He’s gonna kick both of their asses if he finds them, Keith knows, but he can’t stop himself from throwing a triumphant smirk over his shoulder as he leaves.

“Wow, Keith,” Lance says once they’ve reached the other side of the club, “I piss for like, two minutes and you manage to get yourself into trouble. I can’t leave you alone at all, can I?”

“I guess not,” Keith replies, the smile on his face far too bright for the situation. Lance looks unimpressed for just one more second before he’s cracking a smile, too, and they giggle against the far wall of the nightclub for a minute.

“We should go dancing,” Lance suggests after a brief silence. Keith just raises his eyebrows. 

“I am definitely not drunk enough to start dancing,” he replies.

“Come on, then, there’s another bar down this hall,” Lance says, wrapping his fingers around Keith’s wrist to pull him into a corridor. The room they step out into is much smaller and a lot less crowded, which Keith likes a lot. Lance drags him straight to the bar and flashes two fingers at the bartender with a friendly smile.

“Bottoms up, Kogane,” he cheers when the shots are placed on the bar, grabbing one while Keith snags the other. They look at each other for a split seconds before throwing the drinks back in unison, the liquid burning Keith’s throat as he swallows. They slam the glasses back down on the bar, each gesturing for another, throwing that one, and another one, back. Keith’s starting to feel a little buzzed, and he signals to stop after they’ve both thrown back their fourth. 

“Phew,” Lance says, puffing air out obnoxiously through his lips. “That was quick, Keithboy, I’ve never had someone give me a run for my money like you just did.”

“Um, thanks?” Keith replies.

“Oh, I have an idea,” Lance declares, pointing at the little chalkboard menu behind the bar. There’s a section of specialty drinks, and then another of just plain cocktails. “Look at the menu, and try to pick the fanciest sounding drink you can find.”

“That sounds incredibly irresponsible,” Keith chuckles, agreeing to it anyways. He orders a White Russian - making a terrible Yuri!!! on Ice joke alongside it - and Lance orders a Screwdriver. 

“Does this have… milk in it?” Keith asks once he’s got his drink, examining the mix of white and brown liquid curiosity. 

“I guess so,” Lance replies, “now give ‘er a go. C’mon, Keithboy.”

They all but throw the cocktails back like shots, downing them in a couple of mouthfuls.

“Oh my god, that was definitely milk.”

“Another round, Keith, come on.”

This time, it’s a Sangria for Keith and an Alexander for Lance.

And then a Cosmopolitan and a Whiskey Sour.

After that, they both get a Sex on the Beach.

Keith is definitely drunk enough to dance now.

“Lance, Lance, let’s go dancing, come on,” he slurs, grabbing Lance’s wrist and stumbling away from the bar. Lance throws some money down - far more than enough to cover their drinks, Keith thinks - and follows as Keith leads the way back down the hallway and to the central part of the club.

“Oh my god, I love this song!”

“Do you even know this song?” Keith asks, fumbling over his words as he focuses on pulling Lance out to the centre of the dance floor.

“Nope, not at all.”

Keith just rolls his eyes and drops Lance’s wrist in favour of putting his arms above his head.

Keith doesn’t dance, that’s just a general rule for him. But here, completely smashed, watching the graceful movements of Lance’s hips, dancing feels almost natural. He still moves awkwardly, unsure of the timing, his hips not swaying quite as elegantly as Lance’s.

“Here, like this,” Lance whispers, stepping in close behind him and panting his hands on Keith’s hips, holding them tightly and bringing their bodies together. He rocks Keith in time with his own movements, the two of them moving fluidly to the music, and Keith hand comes down above Lance’s head to grasp lightly at the back of his neck.

Lance is warm, so warm, and pressed against Keith in so many places that Keith thinks he might melt. Keith’s hip rock back against Lance of their own accord, grinding slightly as he tips his head back onto Lance’s shoulder, and Lance just grips him even tighter. The light flashes around them, casting shadows on their bodies, defining all of the curves and lines of Keith’s figure as Lance watches.

He wants Keith. 

He wants Keith so badly. 

Keith is going to be his, at least for tonight.

He uses the grip he has on Keith’s hips to turn him so they’re chest to chest, and Keith blinks up at him for just a moment before Lance is surging down, his lips pressing forcefully to Keith’s. Keith gasps against his mouth, freezing for just a second before melting against Lance. They kiss on the dance floor, with music and bodies and light raging around them like a storm, but they’re completely engulfed in each other. They’re chest to chest, and mouth on mouth, and the only things keeping Keith grounded are Lance’s hands splayed across his back and Lance’s tongue dragging slowly across the roof of his mouth.

Keith could die, right now, and he’d be happy.

“Keith,” Lance breathes into his mouth, “Keith, home, let’s go home.”

The trip back to Lance’s apartment is full of teeth on necks and hands on thighs and giggles hushed against skin, and Keith won’t be surprised if Lance’s Uber Customer Rating goes down.

Keith’s back is against Lance’s apartment door less than a second after it’s closed, and Lance’s mouth is on his again. Keith just lets himself crumble, hands gripping the front of Lance’s shirt tightly as Lance’s own hands travel down his back and over his butt, stopping to grip tightly at the top of Keith’s thighs. He hoists Keith up, using the door to support most of Keith’s weight as Keith willingly wraps his thighs around Lance’s waist.

 _“Is this actually happening?”_ Keith wonders as his hands drift up Lance’s chest to tangle in his short, brown hair. _“Oh my god, this is happening.”_

His hips roll forwards against Lance’s stomach of their own accord and he gasps against Lance lips, one hand coming around to hold Lance’s jaw. Lance takes the opportunity to lick into Keith’s mouth, shifting to support him on one arm while his other hand slips under Keith’s shirt to splay across his stomach. 

Keith’s heart isn’t beating anymore. Or, maybe, it’s beating so fast that he can’t feel it. Either way, he’s absolutely certain that he’s going to die.

At least he’ll die kissing Lance.

They kiss like art; each push and pull a perfect movement. Lips slot against each other flawlessly, molding around the other, forcing heat into mouths and tongues over teeth. Bodies, lips, hands move in tandem with the other’s, grabbing and pulling and holding as naturally as though they’d done this a thousand times. Lance’s face is warm under Keith’s palm, and Keith trembles with electricity against Lance’s chest, and Lance loves it. 

He loves Keith’s skin, warm and soft under his fingers as his hand drifts over Keith’s stomach. He loves the quiet, desperate sounds that he swallows into his own mouth, and the gentle tugs at his hair when he presses in even closer to Keith. 

Most of all, though, Lance loves the heat.

Their kiss is intense, quick and passionate, all of their desire flowing out into each other’s mouths. It builds up in Lance’s chest, burning him from the inside, and all he wants is more. He wants to kiss harder, be closer, touch more, more, more.

Keith is warm, so, so warm, and he’s pressed so, so close to Lance. Their lips break apart, and Keith’s head tips back against the door with a shuddering gasp as Lance kisses down his neck. His heart is beating so fast; Lance can feel it against his lips. Keith’s hands grab at the collar of Lance’s shirt, stumbling over the buttons to try and pull it open. The fabric sags off of Lance’s shoulders and bunches up around Keith’s legs. Lance reclaims his lips as Keith’s hands roam over bare skin, nails digging into Lance’s chest and teeth closing around Lance’s lower lip as Lance rocks up against him.

All Lance wants in more. He wants to kiss Keith even more, to touch him even more, to go even further, but he can still taste alcohol in Keith’s mouth, and he knows that Keith can still taste it in his. And Lance has always been prone to making impulsive decisions and following his desires, but he could never take risks with Keith. He loves him too much.

“Keith,” he breathes, pulling his lips back a fraction of an inch. “Keith, we should-”

Keith shakes his head as though he knows what Lance is going to say, and chases Lance’s lips. Lance’s resolve starts to crumble into dust under Keith’s mouth. He wants more, but his muddled brain is screaming at him to be smart.

“Keith,” he tries again, “we need to-” he cuts himself off with a gasp as Keith lightly bites against his neck. “We need to stop.”

Keith pulls back, his grey eyes blown wide, and stares directly into Lance’s as though he can see into Lance’s mind.

“Why?” he asks, softly and curiously, sounding a little disappointed.

“We’re wasted,” Lance replies. Keith’s eyes blink shut as he smiles softly, and he tangles his fingers back into Lance’s hair to pull him close again. He peppers soft kisses over Lance’s lips and cheeks and chin, gentle and repetitive, conveying emotions that he’d never be able to express with words.

He’s so scared that, if he lets Lance go now, he’s never going to get him back. And he’s not ready to let go, will never be ready to let go.

“Not yet,” he sighs, and then they’re kissing again, just as hard and fast as they had before. Keith plants one foot against the door and pushes off it, forcing Lance backwards. To his relief, Lance understands exactly what he wants; he wraps both arms tightly around Keith’s thighs to hold him close as he stumbles blindly towards his bedroom. He dumps Keith unceremoniously on his bed and chases him down, crawling between his legs. Keith drags his nails down Lance’s bare back - his shirt was discarded completely somewhere in the hallway - and Lance buries his face against his neck, kissing and sucking at his pale skin.

“Lance, Lance,” Keith whines, gripping into Lance’s hair to pull his face up. Lance grabs around Keith’s thighs as they kiss, hitching them up and around his waist to press even closer, grinding his hips against Keith's ass, and Keith’s mind goes completely blank as he grabs, pulls, holds tightly around Lance’s back. Lance pops the buttons of Keith’s shirt open, pushing the fabric off of his chest as soon as he’s finished, and Keith arches off the bed so that he can slip the shirt off completely. Lance stays perched above him as he falls back down, staring at him with pure awe shining in his blue eyes.

Keith’s skin is so beautiful.

Lance has seen Keith shirtless; they’d gone to a water park just a few days ago. But he’s never seen Keith like this, his clear skin warm and dry, radiating heat against Lance’s palms. He’s never dreamed to be able to have Keith like he does now, soft and pliable, disheveled over Lance’s bedsheets with eyes that shine purple in the room’s dim light. He drags his fingers down Keith’s chest with prayer-like reverence, his touch like worship, spreading heat through Keith’s veins.

Keith can’t take it anymore.

He presses in, arms wrapping around the back of Lance’s neck to pull him down against his lips. Forcing his way up,  he flips Lance over and sits above him; Lance pulls Keith back with him as he moves to sit upright against his headboard. He kisses up against Keith, licking into Keith’s open mouth as his fingers squeeze Keith’s hips with bruising force. Keith is gasping, his fingers scratching down Lance’s chest and teeth tearing into Lance’s lip as Lance yanks his hips forward and grabs at his belt buckle.

_“We should stop.”_

Keith lets out a high-pitched whimper as Lance flips his belt open and drags his zipper down, slipping his hands into the waistband for his jeans to start pulling them down his hips. 

_“We have to stop.”_

Lance pushes Keith sideways off his lap and rolls over on top of him, working quickly to peel Keith’s jeans from his legs. Tossing the clothing to the side, he grabs Keith’s right ankle, holding his legs open as he stares down from where he kneels at the end of the bed. Keith’s chest is flushed pink, dotted with red marks from Lance’s teeth and lips, and his entire body heaves as he fights for breath. His arms are spread out across the bed and one knee curves in towards his pelvis self-consciously, and he’s so beautiful that Lance could cry. 

_“We need to stop.”_

Lance pulls Keith’s ankle up even more, hooking it over his shoulder as he kisses down Keith’s leg, and Keith’s eyes pop open momentarily as he gasps. Lance smirks into the smooth skin near Keith’s knee, taking in Keith’s bright red blush happily before continuing on. Keith’s fingers grip into the sheets as Lance kisses and sucks at the delicate flesh on the inside of Keith’s thigh. Keith’s legs fall completely open and Lance takes the opportunity to move in closer, hand sliding down Keith’s leg to slip under the fabric of his boxers. Lance bites into his skin, hard, and Keith _screams_ _._

“Lance, Lance, please,” he sobs, head tipping back and hips rolling upwards, crying out as Lance bites again. “Lance, please!”

_“We’re going way too far.”_

Lance wants him so badly.

_“This is getting out of hand.”_

Keith is shaking, his right leg hooked around the back of Lance’s head to hold him close.

_“We need to stop.”_

Lance craves Keith: the taste of his skin, the sound of his voice, the feel of his lips. He wants to keep going, wants to keep Keith up all night, wants the sun to never rise again.

_“Stop before you destroy each other.”_

Lance can’t keep going.

Slowly, he pulls away from Keith, unwrapping Keith’s leg from around his neck to crawl back up his body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “Keith, we need to stop.”

Keith blinks up at him, grey eyes dazed, and suddenly starts to cry.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Lance, I’m-” he sobs, covering his face with his hands. Lance frowns, grabbing Keith to pull him up and cradle him to his chest.

“Shh, shh, Keith, it’s okay. It’s okay, Keith, what’s wrong?” Lance asks, holding Keith’s shaking body close. Tears drip down Keith’s hands and onto Lance’s chest as he breaks down.

“Don’t leave me,” he breathes, choking around his tears. “Please don’t leave me.”

It takes less than a second for Lance’s heart to break over Keith. He drags him in even closer, burying his face in Keith’s hair and fighting back his own tears.

“I’m not going to leave you, I promise. Keith, I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

 

**SATURDAY; 11:19 A.M.**

 

Keith wakes up with the most insane headache in the world, and the rest of his body isn’t doing that well either. He groans loudly and rolls over onto his stomach, smiling a little when he hears Lance laugh from the kitchen. A couple of minutes pass by as he just lies there, trying to build up the determination to sit up and actually go about life.

“Keith, you little shit, wake up,” Lance calls from the kitchen, his voice echoing against the walls of the apartment. Keith groans again but still pulls the comforters down from over his head and sits. There’s a glass of water and two Tylenol on the nightstand and Keith smiles; of course Lance is the type of guy to provide hangover cures to his guests. There’s also a sweater folded up at the end of the bed; Keith grabs it on his way to the bathroom.

He looks like a straight-up mess.

“Lance!” he screeches, “what did you do to me!”

His neck and chest are covered in hickies; deep purple-red and enflamed against his pale skin. His hair is tangled and his lips are swollen, his bloodshot eyes topping it all off. 

Lance walks in as Keith is pressed close to the mirror, examining the marks on his neck.

“Oh, that’s not even the worst of it,” he chuckles, his hand moving to rest on Keith’s hip as he walks up behind him. His fingers slot perfectly over bruises that mark Keith’s skin, and Keith glares at him in the mirror. Then Lance’s hand drops, falling between Keith’s legs to press hard against a set of deep teeth marks. Keith yelps, jumping away from Lance and smacking his chest before immediately sitting on the edge of the bathtub to inspect his legs.

“Lance, what the fuck?” he cries. His right leg is covered from his ankle to his thigh in bites and bruises, all as red and swollen as the ones on his neck and chest. There are finger-shaped bruises around the backs of his thighs, right under his ass, from being held up against a door for so long. The glare that Keith fires at Lance is venomous enough to kill a man.

“Hey, hey, hey! I’m not the only villain here!” Lance insists with raised hands. Keith continues to glare, so Lance pulls his shirt up over his head. 

His chest is covered in scratches and kiss marks that are just as bad as Keith’s. The scratches on his back are even worse, bright red and enflamed against his dark skin, and Keith is almost proud of himself.

“See! You’re not particularly gentle, either!” Lance declares, “my back bled for a little while last night! And my lip didn’t stop bleeding till this morning!”

“Wait, your lip?” Keith asks, rising from the edge of the bathtub to hold Lance’s face in one hand, inspecting it. There’s a small scab under his lower lip, right on the seam where it meets his chin, as though it had been torn. “Did I bite you?”

“No, I bit myself. Of course you bit me! And your teeth are sharp, man, what the fuck!” Lance replies, his own hand cupping Keith’s chin. He slips his thumb between Keith’s lips, brushing the pad of it across his teeth before pulling Keith’s mouth open completely. Keith makes a couple of protesting noises but lets Lance proceed. “What the hell, Keith? You’ve got, like, shark teeth.”

“Thanks,” Keith mumbles around Lance’s thumb. Lance rolls his eyes and moves his hand, wiping his thumb on his shorts. 

They check themselves over in the bathroom for a little while longer, laughing at the obnoxious marks all over the other’s body. Lance moves to grab Keith by the thighs, fingers wrapping over last night’s bruises, so Keith retaliates by sinking his teeth into his shoulder. It’s lighthearted and fun and Keith could really get used to all of it. He shouldn’t, but he could.

This is going to make leaving a whole lot harder.

“Take a quick shower and come eat with me,” Lance says after a while, gently, almost like a question. Keith nods up at him, having half a mind to ask Lance to join him in the shower, but decides against it. He’s not bold enough. To his shock, however, Lance leans down to kiss him, chaste and quick but still definitely a kiss, before stepping out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

“Whoa,” Keith breathes, his hand coming up to brush against his lips. Lance had kissed him, and it had been gentle and sweet and romantic, and Keith was a little confused. They’d been drunk last night, and people make out with other people that they don’t particularly like all the time when they’re drunk. But they don’t often kiss them like a lover in the morning, standing in the bathroom and teasing other before sitting down to eat breakfast together. That’s not something that happens during a one-night stand, or even between friends with benefits. 

Could Lance actually like Keith back?

Keith’s mind is spinning as he mechanically prepares for his shower, ideas and scenarios playing out in his head. He’s hopeful, yes, definitely, but also incredibly nervous and skeptical. There’s one thing that he knows for certain, though: he and Lance are going to have to talk about this. And that’s going to be awkward as fuck.

 

“I borrowed a pair of sweatpants,” he says as he walks into the living room. His hair is still damp, pulled up into a pathetic little bun at the back of his head to keep if from dripping down his neck, and Lance’s overly large sweats sit loosely on his hips. He’d been considering not putting a shirt on but decided against it, lacking the confidence. In the end, he’d grabbed one on Lance’s old graphic shirts from his dresser. At the moment, his only issue is underwear; he’s out of clean pairs and he wasn’t going to borrow some of Lance’s, so he just had to skip them all together. But is he going to let Lance know that? No. No way in hell.

“Alright,” Lance replies with a shrug, “I made breakfast.”

“You made breakfast? Or Hunk told you how to make breakfast?” Keith teases, leaning on the counter next to Lance. Lance just mock scowls.

“Breakfast is my only trump card on Hunk’s cooking abilities; I am so much better at it than he is. It’s not sophisticated enough for him,” Lance jokes, removing a tray stacked high with pancakes from in the oven. “There’s syrup in the fridge, you wanna grab it?”

Keith swallows around a lump in his throat, the sheer domesticity of this situation threatening to strangle him. None of the events are particularly exciting- Lance in the kitchen, making pancakes while Keith showers, the two of them setting the table quickly before sitting down to eat together- but to Keith, they’re everything. Emotion swells up in his chest.

“Hey, Lance,” he whispers, just as Lance is about to sit. He freezes, straightening up to look Keith in the eyes.

“Yeah?”

Before Keith can lose his confidence, he rocks up onto his toes and kisses Lance softly. “Thank you.”

Lance gasps, his face bright red as a stupid smile curls up on his lips. He wraps his arms around Keith waist and kisses him again. “No problem, Keithboy.”

They’re both grinning like idiots as they sit down, helping themselves to an indulgent amount of pancakes and orange juice and shooting not-so-sly glances at each other. There’s still a question bouncing around in Keith’s head, though, and he doubts that an even insane amount of syrup will be able to get rid of it.

“Lance?” he asks after a few minutes. Lance’s head snaps up from his plate, mouth full of pancakes and face looking a little bit ridiculous, and Keith giggles a little before proceeding. “Do you- um- do you think we should talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” Lance asks, and Keith can’t figure out if he’s genuinely oblivious or just being a dick.

“About, like, us. And what happened last night, and all that,” he mumbles, red up to his ears. Lance blinks at him for a minute, a light frown working on his forehead.

“Wait, what happened last… oh, Keith! You don’t, like, regret it, do you? Or did I hurt you too much? I mean, that bite was pretty extreme, I just got kinda caught up in the moment, I’m sorry-”

“Um, what?” Keith asks, taken aback. That was so not what he was expecting. “No, no, Lance, all that’s fine. Don’t worry about it; that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, thank god,” Lance sighs, “then what?”

“I meant, like, our relationship,” Keith admits, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “and if you want to continue this, or if we should just drop it now, or if you- you never wanna see me again after this, or something else.”

Lance’s jaw drops, eyes wide on Keith’s face, shining with something that Keith could only describe as disbelief. “No, no no no no no, Keith, how could you possibly think that? Of course I wanna see you again, I wanna see you every day! And, like, I don’t know but, like, I kind of like this thing that we’re doing now; you know, like, kissing, and being cute, and also making out, and everything…” he stutters. His face is so, so red and he’s beyond flustered, and Keith can’t help but giggle. 

“So are you saying that you maybe want to continue this?” he asks, “you know, like, the kissing, and being cute, and making out…”

“I think that what I’m saying is that you’re really nice, and funny, and super smart, and you’re also really pretty, and I really like to be near you?” Lance stutters, gesticulating wildly and blushing like a madman.

“Is this your way of asking me to be your boyfriend? Because, if it is, you’re pretty shit,” Keith teases.

“Well then, fine, how’s this,” Lance responds, a challenge ringing in his voice. He pushes out of his chair and drops to one knee beside Keith’s, grabbing one of Keith’s hands in both of his own. “Keith Kogane, will you be my boyfriend?”

“Of course, you idiot,” Keith replies, overjoyed tears shining in his eyes, “now get up off the floor.” Lance is beaming up at him, still on one knee, and Keith can’t resist leaning down to kiss him. He relishes in it, his free hand coming down to cup Lance’s cheek, and Lance presses up against him to deepen it for just a second. Then he’s pulling away, chuckling a little at Keith’s soft whine as he gets up from the floor.

“Eat, Keithboy; we’ll have plenty of time to make out later, when there aren’t delicious homemade pancakes on the table.” 

 

**SATURDAY; 1:06 P.M.**

 

“Today’s adventure is going to be sitting in my apartment and watching YouTube videos,” Lance declares as he finishes washing up from breakfast.

“Good,” Keith replies, “I wouldn’t want to go out in public like this; I look like I got mauled by a bear.”

“Well, I look like I got attacked by a tiger. I guess that that’s just the danger of making out with Keith Kogane.”

“So, are you saying that you don't want to do it again?” Keith teases, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrow with a smirk.

“That is the exact opposite of what I’m saying; I live life on the edge,” Lance counters, coming up behind Keith and draping his arms over his shoulders. Keith just rolls his eyes, his head tipping sideways to rest against Lance’s forearm.

“Are we going to be one of those really sappy, touchy-feely gay couples?” he asks, somewhat sarcastically.

“We’re going to be so touchy-feely gay that Hunk bakes us cookies to avoid being in the same room as us,” Lance declares.

“Sounds good.”

 

“Okay, but you gotta admit that Fleur Delacour had amazing boobs,” Lance says. They’re watching Goblet of Fire and Keith is sprawled out on Lance’s chest, Lance’s arms wrapped loosely around his back.

“Well, I guess… I’m not the person to ask, Lance; I’m gay.”

“True, but you have to have noticed them!” Lance insists, “it’s like God said ‘let there be titties’ and there were titties, and God looked at them, and they were good.”

“Did you just compare the Book of Genesis to Fleur Delacour’s boobs?” Keith asks, rising up from Lance’s chest to stare at him incredulously. Lance replies with a simple smirk, pulling Keith back down against his body and holding him there.

“Goblet of Fire is your favourite Harry Potter book, right?” Keith asks after a while.

“Yeah. I like it because it’s before the shit hits the fan, so it’s not too intense, but it’s also not just a bunch of eleven-year olds fighting a troll,” Lance explains, “you can see that every single day on the internet.”

Keith chuckles, the sound muffled slightly against Lance’s shirt. “Okay, true. And same, but I also liked it a lot because Cedric was Hufflepuff, and Hufflepuff really gets the short end of the stick. Like, nobody really even cares about them! They’re an important house, too!”

“Keith, Cedric died,” Lance says, slowly, as if scared to set Keith off. He winds up setting him off anyways.

Keith bolts upright, sitting across Lance’s stomach with both hands planted firmly on his chest. “Cedric’s death was the death that started a revolution!” he yells, “a revolution, Lance!”

“I know, I know,” Lance replies soothingly, an amused smile playing across his lips. “I’ve heard all this before; Hunk is a very passionate Hufflepuff.”

“I just don’t get why Hufflepuff gets so much shit,” Keith says, “like, they’re an important house! I’m Gryffindor and even I can see that.”

“Also, Newt Scamander was in Hufflepuff, and he’s hot as fuck. Like, damn.”

“Exactly!” Keith cries, “Newt Scamander’s face is a win for Hufflepuff!”

“This is probably the dumbest conversation we’ve ever had.”

Keith stares into his eyes for just a minute, and then they’re both laughing. Keith’s forehead comes down to press against Lance’s chest, fingers gripping tightly into his shirt as he cackles. 

“What the- nice laugh, Keith!” Lance cries, mocking the ridiculous sounds ripping from Keith’s throat.

“Fuck off, McClain,” Keith pants, still heaving with laughter against Lance’s chest.

He loves this.

He loves being able to laugh, and be carefree, but still have to option to talk about serious things. He loves that Lance knows when to joke, and when to talk, and when to listen. And he loves that Lance has seen him at his worst, crying and anxious and tired and wasted, and still wants to be with him.

Does he love Lance? Maybe. Probably. But not fully yet.

Could he love Lance? Definitely.

Is he going to think about that right now? No, not at all.

 

Keith is already awake and gone when Lance wakes up, the parts of his body where Keith had been lying feeling colder than the rest of him. He grumbles incoherently, stretching his arms up with a groan before rolling off the couch.

“Who’s the Sleeping Beauty now?” Keith teases as Lance stumbles into the kitchen. It looks like he’s just woken up, eyes still drooping and hair unkempt. 

Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s waist and buries his nose in the side of his neck, the skin soft and sweet-smelling from sleep. “It’s still you.”

They’re both tired, just barely free from sleep, and Lance would gladly just hold Keith like this and not move for two hours. His body is pliable and pleasantly warm in Lance’s arms, and it brings Lance back to Thursdays morning, watching Keith stumble around the kitchen in his underwear. He’d wanted to badly back then to have Keith like he has him now.

“Oi, you soggy towel, get off me,” Keith threatens, his voice lacking any resolve or seriousness as he rests his cheek on Lance’s head. Lance just sighs happily, his hands snaking under Keith’s shirt to rest against his stomach.

“You’re so tiny,” he mumbles into Keith’s skin, “so, so small. A tiny man.”

“I’m going to kick your ass,” Keith replies, completely bluffing. He leans back against Lance’s chest, eyes closing in contentment. 

“What a tiny little guy; my miniature boyfriend.”

“I am literally like, two inches shorter than you; shut the fuck up.”

“You’re so cute,” Lance says, punctuating the statement with a kiss to Keith’s neck. Keith flushes, automatically clutching his glass of water tighter as he looks at the floor.

“And you’re embarrassing.”

Keith’s skin is warm under Lance’s fingertips, and Lance isn’t thinking very straight. All he wants to do is touch, and explore, and get be as close to Keith as possible. He lets his hands slide down Keith’s stomach, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of his sweats. His fingers drop into the fabric to ghost across Keith’s legs, and they both nearly choke.

“Keith, you’re not-”

“I was out of clean-”

“You could’ve borrowed-”

“I thought that that’d be weird!”

“Weirder than not wearing underwear? For an entire day?” Lance cries, his hands still down Keith’s sweatpants. Keith can’t tell if he forgot to take them out, or if he’s just being weird.

“Oh, come on, Lance, don’t play innocent,” Keith says, “you’ve definitely gone a day without wearing underwear. No one has enough clean underwear to wear every day.”

“I do, in fact, have enough clean underwear to wear every day! I’m not a fucking heathen, like some people!” Lance insists. Keith rolls his eyes.

“I don’t believe you; not one bit.”

“I will literally show you my underwear collection, it’s so expansive that you could get lost in it. There is so much underwear,” Lance says, still making no move to pull away from Keith. Keith starts to wonder if he’s secretly enjoying this.

“Wow,” he mocks, “someone has their priorities in order.”

Lance scoffs. “I think that clean underwear is a very big priority. It keeps me from walking around in the world with my fucking dick out!”

“I’ve never gone out in public without underwear, you giant piece of shit,” Keith insists, “I was just out of clean pairs and I felt weird borrowing some of yours.”

“Keith, my tongue was literally all over your leg last night; you can feel free to borrow my underwear,” Lance replies, his mock horror fading away into amusement and fondness. Keith just rolls his eyes.

“Then let go of me so I can put some on.”

“Aw, but you’re really warm.”

“Lance, I swear to God-”

“Okay, fine, fine. Hurry back, babe.”

It takes all of Keith’s concentration to not trip because of Lance’s words. 

 

They’re lying on the couch again, scrolling through Lance’s Netflix list, when Keith gets a text.

 **_From Black:_ ** _hey, Keith_

 **_From Black:_ ** _Allura wants to know when you want to visit this summer_

 **_From Black:_ ** _bc her mom’s staying with us for two weeks and we don’t have the space for both of you_

 **_From Black:_ ** _so get back to me_

 **_From Black:_ ** _or like, you know, don’t come_

 **_From Black:_ ** _I’m kidding_

 **_From Black:_ ** _love you, Red._

“Who was that?” Lance wonders sleepily, flopping over sideways to rest his head on Keith’s lap. Keith automatically tangles his fingers into Lance’s hair.

“My brother,” Keith replies, tapping out a quick message.

 **_To Black:_ ** _Shiro, you know just as well as I do that I don’t do jack shit over the summer._

 **_To Black:_ ** _just fit me in where you have time, okay?_

“Shiro, right?” Lance asks, his blue eyes opening slowly to look up at Keith. He nods as he sets his phone on the able beside him. 

“Yeah. He was asking about when I want to visit him this summer,” Keith explains, “it’s kind of an unnecessary question, he only lives like, an hour away from my dorm.”

“Wow, lucky. I miss my brothers,” Lance says, “I have two. Daniel- he’s oldest- and Benji. I saw Benji in December, but I haven’t seen Danny for a while. He couldn’t come to Christmas, so…”

“Tell me about your family?” Keith requests, carding his fingers through Lance’s dark hair. Lance’s eyes flicker closed.

“Well, there’s my mom- she’s great,” Lance starts, “and my dad- less great, but still pretty good. Then, there’re five of us: Danny, Sophia, me, Benji, Cleo, and Josie. It’s a hectic household, but we’ve made it.”

“Where’re you from?”

“Well, we live in Arizona. Oh my god, Keith, the town that we’re in has the dumbest fucking name ever; Winkleman. It’s literally called Winkleman,” Lance chuckles.

“No way. No fucking way,” Keith replies, laughing into his hand.

“I shit you not. But, like, anyway; we live in Asscheek, Arizona, but we’re Cuban.”

“Were you born there?” Keith asks. 

Lance shakes his head. “Us kids weren’t, but my parents were. It’s kind of a cool story, actually. So, my mom met my dad when she was fifteen and he was seventeen. When she was sixteen, her family immigrated to Scottsdale and, when he was old enough, my dad followed her there. A love story for the ages, huh?”

“That’s actually… really beautiful,” Keith says earnestly, his lips curving up into a small smile. Lance’s expression is a near-perfect match; his cheeks tinted pink as his eyes blink open.

“It is, isn’t it?” he whispers, “I’ve doubted a lot of things in my life, but I’ve never doubted my parents’ love for each other. It’s so apparent, it’s almost tangible.”

“Wow,” Keith breathes, “tell me more?”

“Well, we all grew up speaking Spanish. I don’t speak it here very often, but I speak it all the time at home.”

“Why don’t you speak it here?”

“It confuses Hunk,” Lance laughs, “I’m trying to make life easier for the big guy; he cooks for me and all. Oh, also, literally everyone in my family knows how to cook. It’s almost like a rule.”

Keith frowns. “Then why does Hunk cook for you?”

“He loves to, and it’s less work for me, so I’m not complaining in the slightest,” Lance explains. 

“Wow, someone’s lazy,” Keith teases. Lance is about to protest, but Keith cuts him off. “Tell me more.”

“Um- oh! Danny and his wife, Rachel, have the two cutest kids ever. There’s Matteo, who’s four, and Isabella, who’s one, and they’re so freaking adorable I feel like melting every time I see them. Do you like kids, Keith?”

Keith winces just a little. “Kids kinda scare me. I mean, like, I’m not against them, but they’re loud and energetic and I’m just… not.”

“Well, I’m willing to bet five dollars that you’d like these kids,” Lance declares, “or at least Matteo. Isabella’s different because she’s a baby, but Matteo is the friendliest little monster in the world.”

“That’s really cool,” Keith replies, smiling widely. The image in his mind of Lance, surrounded by a huge family, is so cute he could cry.

Lance smiles up at him, reaching out to poke Keith’s cheek. “Tell me about your family, Keithboy.”

“Oh, um, well,” Keith stutters, surprised, “there’s not really much to tell. It’s me, Shiro, and our dad. No real story.”

“You and Shiro have different last names, right?” Lance asks, “why is that?”

“That’s kind of a long story,” Keith replies. He’s stalling, he knows, and it’s not because he doesn’t want to tell the story. He just isn’t sure that Lance really wants to hear it.

“Well, I’ve got time,” Lance announces, stretching out more fully on Keith’s lap and pressing the top of his head into Keith’s hand. Keith rolls his eyes to disguise his happiness.

“If you insist,” he says. “So, Shiro and I are adoptive siblings. He was born in Japan, and his birth parents died in a house fire when he was four years old. He was brought to an orphanage pretty soon after that.” Lance blinks up at Keith, his eyes fixed to Keith’s face as he takes in the information, and Keith smiles a little. “I was left on the doorstep of the same orphanage about six months after. No identification, no nothing, just 2,000 yen. It sounds like a lot, I know, but it’s only like, 20 American dollars. Because I had no ID, they named me Kogane. The kanji characters for it mean “small sum of money,” so they essentially named me “20 dollars.”

Lance can’t help but laugh. “Seriously?”

“Dead seriously,” Keith replies, suppressing laughter of his own.

“Wow,” Lance giggles, “okay, okay. Don’t let me interrupt you; keep going.”

“Sure,” Keith agrees, “anyway, where was I? Oh, okay, so, a couple of months after I was brought there, a group of people on a mission trip showed up at the orphanage to bring clothes and toys and other charity stuff. My dad was with them. And Shiro was a cute kid, let me tell you. He was adorable,” Keith declares. He and Lance both smile softly; Lance’s eyes are closed again. “And I was pretty cute, too, if I may say. Dad’s told us that, the moment he laid eyes on the two of us, he decided that we had to be his kids.”

“Aww,” Lance coos.

“I know, right! But anyways, he filed for adoption, and Shiro and I were on a plane to America a few weeks later.”

“Oh, wait,” Lance says, “was Shiro’s name given to him at the orphanage, too?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, “Keith explains, “it was on his papers. His birth name is Takashi Shirogane.”

“Ah, okay,” Lance replies, “oh, one more question. If your name was just Kogane at the orphanage, where did you get Keith from?”

Keith immediately flushes bright pink. “Okay,” he whispers, “I am about to tell you one of my biggest, best-kept secrets. Don’t laugh; don’t you dare laugh. If you laugh, I’ll kick your ass.”

Lance blanches, his eyes popping open in alarm. “Yikes, alrighty, I won’t laugh.”

“I was named after Keith Urban.”

Lance’s mouth hangs open in wide-eyed shock for just a moment before curling up at the corners, his forehead crinkling as he suppresses his laughter. He can only hold it for about ten seconds before he erupts in giggles.

“Keith, Keith, I’m sorry,” he pants, “I can’t just not laugh at that; that’s hilarious! Keith Urban, oh my god!”

“I know,” Keith says through laughter of his own, “it’s fucking gold, holy shit. Shiro’s never stopped making fun of me for it.”

“That’s just- it’s- it’s so great.”

“You wanna know what’s even greater? I was almost named Josh,” Keith wheezes, “as in Josh Turner.” Their laughter stops momentarily, just long enough for them to stare at each other before breaking down again.

“Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low,” Lance drawls in an exaggeratedly deep Southern accent. Tears well up in Keith’s eyes from laughing so hard. It takes nearly five minutes for the two of them to calm down, Keith clutching into Lance’s shirt and Lance’s head thrown back over Keith’s lap as they howl into the otherwise silent apartment.

“That’s never not gonna be funny to people, is it?” Keith asks, somewhat rhetorically.

“Nope,” Lance replies. Keith frowns a little as he watches Lance’s carefree smile fade into something more serious.

“Lance?” he asks, “what is it?”

“I was just thinking, like, Shiro was the one with the prosthetic arm at the Quidditch Cup last year, wasn’t he? What- um… what happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Don’t look so worried, Lance; it’s okay,” Keith says, “Shiro got hit by a car when he was fourteen. It crushed his arm so badly that it had to be removed. And it was hard for a while, but he healed.”

“I’m- I’m so sorry,” Lance whispers. Keith just smiles down at him, brushing his fingers across Lance’s cheek.

“It’s okay. It happened a decade ago,” Keith replies calmly. Lance looks directly up at him, his blue eyes shining with just the slightest amount of sadness, and Keith stares back. 

“Shiro must be really brave.”

“He is,” Keith agrees, “he’s the bravest man I know. He had to deal with his parents dying when he was only four years old, and then he had to move to a new country and learn a new language, he lost his arm and had to learn how to operate a prothetic, he had to take care of me when he was sixteen years old… he’s a great brother.”

“Wait, he had to take care of you?” Lance asks, his forehead crinkling in confusion.

“Oh uh, yeah,” Keith says, “my family hasn’t really had the best luck in terms of health and wellbeing. My dad got cancer when I was twelve-”

“Oh my god, Keith, I’m so-”

“Lance, it’s okay,” Keith whispers, “he’s in remission, now; has been for the past five years. But, at the time, he was pretty weak; he was barely home due to treatment and, when he was home, it was hard for him to do anything. That meant the Shiro had to step up and be my dad as well as my brother for a little while. He really had to grow up too fast.”

Emotion shines in Lance’s eyes as he pushes up off Keith’s lap. Keith is about to ask where he’s going when, suddenly, there are arms wrapped tight around his waist and Lance’s face buried against his neck. They embrace for a while, Keith gently scratching Lance’s back as Lance shakes.

“Hey, Lance,” he breathes, “Lance, look at me. Hey, look at me. It’s okay. It’s okay. It was hard at the time, but we’re stronger for it now.”

“I’m sorry, though. I’m still sorry. No one deserves that kind of pain and suffering,” Lance whimpers, tipping his head forwards to rest his forehead against Keith’s.

“It was hard, but we’re okay.”

“Thank you, Keith,” Lance murmurs.

“For what?”

“For telling me all of this. It- it means a lot to me,” Lance says, so quietly it’s almost inaudible. Keith just smiles, a little sadly, and presses a kiss to Lance’s nose.

“Well, thank you for listening,” he replies, kissing Lance again. “You know what? You should meet Shiro some day. My dad, too, if we can fit in a trip to Houston.”

“I’d love that,” Lance declares. He pulls back just slightly, staring into Keith’s eyes as they beam at each other. Both of their smiles are just the slightest bit sad.

“I’d love it too,” Keith agrees, “now, lie back down. I’m gonna fall asleep on you.”

“Keith, we literally just woke up from a nap,” Lance protests, lying back anyways. Keith flops over on top of him, tangling their legs as his cheek comes to rest on Lance’s chest. He can hear the steady thrum of Lance’s heartbeat, warm and reassuring as the arms that settle around his back.

“Yeah, well, you got me super drunk and incredibly horny last night; I’m allowed to sleep it off.”

“Touché,” Lance replies, even as his hands start sliding down Keith’s body. Keith frowns a little.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he deadpans, rising up on Lance’s chest to level an unimpressed glare at him. Lance’s hands are drifting down into his sweatpants again, splaying out across his ass.

“Immensely.”

“You’re so awful,” Keith declares. Lance responds by squeezing his butt, hard.

“I was thinking, Keithboy,” he says nonchalantly, as though his hands aren’t down the back of Keith’s pants. “you’re Korean, aren’t you? Why were you at an orphanage in Japan?”

“Oh, well, I could be Japanese,” Keith explains, “my dad just thinks I’m Korean. He says I have a more Korean facial structure. There’s no documentation though, so I could be from anywhere. Now would you please get your hands off my ass?”

“Ah, but it’s nice,” Lance whines, squeezing Keith’s butt once more before moving his hands to rest in the small of Keith’s back. Keith glares at him halfheartedly for a few more seconds before his expression cracks and he smiles.

“You’re an idiot,” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss Lance once before settling back down on his chest. One of Lance’s hands comes up to tangle in Keith’s hair, and Keith counts the beats of Lance’s heart as they both drift off to sleep.

 

**SATURDAY; 5:57 P.M.**

 

“Keith, wake up.”

“No.”

“Keith, I need to urinate.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, if that’s how you’re gonna be…” Lance says. He pitches his hip up unexpectedly, and Keith screams as he’s sent flying to the floor.

“Lance, how _dare-_ ”

“I warned you that I had to pee, Keith,” Lance chuckles, sitting up. “And I learned that trick from you, so don’t you start complaining.”

“I used that move in pure self-defence,” Keith growls, glaring up at Lance from where he sits on the floor.

“And I used it for your own good!” Lance insists, “I didn’t think you’d appreciate getting pissed on!”

Keith glowers at him for a moment longer before cracking into a smile. “Okay, that’s true. Now go pee, you’re taking up the entire couch.”

Lance chuckles, reaching out to help Keith up from the floor. Keith immediately flops down onto the couch to curl up in the warm spot that Lance left behind.

“My boyfriend; a cat, or a human man? Scientists can’t tell,” Lance teases as he makes his way out of the living room. “Oh, and if the pizza man comes while I’m in the bathroom, there’s money on the table, okay?” 

Keith responds by humming and stretching out, and Lance laughs a little bit as leaves. The couch is pleasantly warm from Lance’s body heat and Keith melts into it; he’s about to fall back asleep when the doorbell rings.

“Fuck,” he whines, rolling unceremoniously off the couch. He scrambles to his feet, plastering a smile on as he grabs money to pay for the pizza. When he turns back to the living room, Lance is standing in the doorway, watching him with an expression that Keith can’t describe.

“What?” he asks defensively, his cheeks flushing. 

Lance flashing his a cocked smile. “Nothing, now bring that pizza over here; I’m hungry as fuck.”

“How about some plates, maybe, Lance?” Keith replies, skirting around him and keeping the pizza out of reach. Lance grumbles halfheartedly but heads into the kitchen anyways, coming back with a stack of paper plates and two water bottles.

“Are you happy, now?” 

“Very.”

“Okay, then, princess,” Lance teases, snatching the pizza box from Keith and placing it on the coffee table. He grabs his laptop as Keith sits down, looking through his YouTube subscriptions to find something to watch.

“Wait,” Keith says, raising an eyebrow as he points to the tiny channel icon in the corner. “That’s not you…”

“Oh, nope, it’s Hunk. This is technically his channel, but we share it most of the time,” Lance explains, clicking not the icon to open Hunk’s profile.

The channel is adorable, decked out in pastel blues and yellows and nicknamed “TrumpetHunk.” The profile picture features a large, dark-skinned man- Hunk, Keith assumes- posing happily with a trombone, and the channel art features cartoon drawings of him and Lance as mermaids. The channel name is written across it in bright yellow, along with the caption, “Hunk (& sometimes Lance!) New videos every Friday!” It’s cute- so, so cute- but it’s also weirdly familiar.

“No, no way,” Keith breathes, slapping Lance’s hands away from the computer to look through the channel freely. “This is so not possible- oh my god!”

_Panic! at the Disco- LA Devotee (a TrumpetHunk Cover)_

Keith has never clicked on a video so fast in his life. The familiar opening starts, and he nearly screams.

“Lance, oh my god! This is amazing!” he cries, the sound of Hunk’s trumpet still playing as Keith turns to face Lance.

“What, do you know the channel?” Lance asks, reaching out to steady his computer on Keith’s lap.

“Not really, no,” Keith admits, “but my friend, Pidge, fucking loves it! She listens to this all the time! Oh my god, She’s gonna freak out when I tell her about this. Lance, this is amazing!”

“Wait, seriously? Keith, that’s so cool!”

“Isn’t it! And you’re on this channel too, aren’t you?” Keith asks, handing the laptop back to Lance. “Show me your videos?”

Lance wordlessly scrolls up to the top of the channel, clicking on the playlists tab to open it. There are four created playlists: TrumpetHunk, PianoLance, BOTH!!, and Other Fun Stuff!

“Wait, what’s ‘Other Fun Stuff,’” Keith asks, moving to click on it.

“Oh, it’s like… vlogs and stuff. Like the time over the summer when he and I went to Universal Orlando, and the Quidditch Cup, and even just simple videos of his day,” Lance explains, scrolling nonchalantly through the videos. Titles flash by, things like _“Yer a Wizard, Hunk,”_ and _“Lance’s New Apartment!”_ and _“Real Life Viktor Krum?!”_

“Real life Viktor Krum?” Keith asks with a laugh, “what?”

“Oh!” Lance giggles, “he was talking about you! That video’s from the Quidditch Cup last year,” he explains, clicking it. 

The video opens with Hunk and Lance in Lance’s car, Hunk speaking into the camera and Lance occasionally adding little, excited comments from the driver’s seat.

“So, we’re on our way to the Quidditch Cup between Ohio State and CIM!” he claims in a big voice, his eyes bright and shining.

“Heck yeah we are!” Lance cries, sticking his head into frame momentarily, “and we’re going to kick butt!”

The rest of the video goes mostly like that, featuring time-lapses of the actual Quidditch match mixed in with chunks of commentary from Hunk, Lance, and other teammates of theirs.

“We just lost! Really badly!” Hunk yells at the camera as he walks off the field after the match, one of his arms looped around Lance to support him. They’re both worn out and dirty, Hunk’s dark hair hanging down in muddy strings and Lance’s matted damply to his forehead.

“I can’t believe I lost to a guy in booty shorts!” Lance whines loudly, throwing his head back and one arm up.

Keith pauses the video. “Booty shorts?”

“Yes,” Lance replies with a firm nod, “booty shorts, Keith. I am not even exaggerating; your shorts were so small, I’m surprised that they were game legal.”

“They weren’t that short!” Keith insists, trying to think back to the Quidditch Cup. “Well, okay, maybe they were a bit short-”

“See!”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Keith demands, “I’d lost my gym shorts; they were Allura’s!”

“They should not have been game legal,” Lance declares, “we should’ve won. You should’ve been disqualified from the game for reason of overly popping booty.”

“You’re overreac- wait, my booty was popping?” Keith repeats, raising his eyebrows at Lance. He’s teasing, challenging Lance to see if he’ll take the comment back.

“Yes!” Lance replies with no hesitation, “it was popping. It was the most popping booty I’ve seen in a long time.” 

Keith immediately flushes, his attempt to embarrass Lance backfiring. “Um, thanks?”

“It’s a compliment, Keithboy,” Lance chuckles, “your ass is what won the Quidditch Cup.”

“Um, excuse me?” Keith says in mock offence, touching a hand to his chest. “I believe that my superior Seeker abilities are what won the Quidditch Cup, thank you very much!”

“Well, that’s a matter of opinion,” Lance replies, a shit-eating grin on his face as he clicks off the video. He hands his computer back to Keith, who glowers at him for a minute before taking it.

“So, do you do covers on here, too?” he asks, clicking on PianoLance. There are quite a few videos; considerably less than the TrumpetHunk playlist, but still a lot.

“Yeah, actually,” Lance says, guiding the mouse up to the most recent video. “I did this week’s cover, and I occasionally do videos when I’m bored or when Hunk is too busy. We do a couple of covers together, too.”

“When’s this one from?” Keith wonders, clicking in the latest video.

_Marianas Trench- Haven’t Had Enough (a PianoLance Cover)_

“Oh, I filmed it on Monday.”

“Wait, Lance,” Keith laughs, “Marianas Trench? Really?”

“What? They’re good!” Lance insists, “everyone needs a little Canadian emo every once in a while!”

“I can’t argue with that.”

Lance is sitting at a piano, and he smiles up into the camera for just a second before lowering his fingers over the keys. He plays a few random notes, just a quick warm up, and then launches into the cover.

Keith chokes.

Lance’s piano playing is impressive. He moves with practiced ease, accurate and correct but also relaxed and carefree. It’s kind of amazing. But what really shocks Keith is Lance’s voice. He can _sing_ , and his voice is so beautiful that Keith might cry. He turns a kind of lame, kind of emo song into a genuine work of art, and it takes Keith’s breath away.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, pausing the video. “Lance, can you really sing like that?”

“Nah, that’s my evil twin,” Lance replies sarcastically. Keith smacks his chest lightly.

“That’s so- it’s like- you’re so amazing,” Keith says, wyes flicking from the computer screen to Lance and back.

“Do you really think so?” Lance asks bashfully, blushing a little. “Because a lot of people just watch for Hunk, you know? So it’s like, I’m not really relevant on his channel; not many people care to see me…”

“Stop that, right now. I see you, Lance,” Keith insists, squeezing Lance’s cheeks in both hands, “I see you. You’re talented, and charismatic, and so, so amazing, and I see you. I see you, I see you, and you’re great.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he responds with a soft smile, leaning in to press a kiss to Lance’s nose, “now be quiet; I’m going to watch this entire goddamn playlist.”

“Oh, Keith, no, please, some of the covers are really horrible.”

“That’s the point.”

“Keith, no, stop!”

 

“I was thinking,” Keith says, “is YouTube how you have all of that extra money and stuff? Like, ad revenue?”

They’re still crawled out on the couch, Keith’s back against Lance’s chest with Lance’s computer propped up on Keith’s bent knees.

“Um. kind of,” Lance replies, “Hunk makes around $15,000 a month, and he gives me $5,000 of that. I send most of that money back to my parents, though.”

“Oh, that’s really impressive, actually,” Keith comments, cocking his head to the side, “Hunk must have a huge fanbase.”

“Somehow, yeah,” Lance replies, “he gets around 700,000 views daily, so… It’s kinda surprising for a guy who literally does nothing but play the trumpet.”

“He’s great at it, though,” Keith insists, playing idly with Lance’s fingers.

Lance nods in agreement, “he is. Oh, but yeah, his ad revenue isn’t my only source of income. Do you know why I’m here at CIM?”

“For piano, right?”

“Nope, actually, I’m here for music technology. That’s, like, recording and shit,” Lance explains, “and when you’re surrounded by musicians who constantly want to be recorded, if you know your way around a studio, you can really rake it in.”

“Wait, seriously?” Keith asks, turning around a little. Lance smiles at him.

“Yup. I make most of my money by using my peers’ egos against them,” he chuckles.

“Well, it works.”

“Yup.”

 

 

“You know what we should do?” Lance asks later, as they’re both sprawled out in his bed. “We should make out for like, an hour and a half.”

“Wow, specific,” Keith teases. “What about an hour and twenty-seven minutes? Is that not good enough? Will it not be a satisfactory make out session unless it’s an hour and a half exactly?”

“Stop being a dick,” Lance whines, reaching out to grab Keith’s waist and pull him closer.

“Why? It’s fun,” Keith replies, moving in closer to climb on top of Lance. Lance just glares at him.

“Let me try this again,” Lance declares, “you know what we should do? We should make out, right the fuck now, for however long we fucking want.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

**SUNDAY; 3:21 A.M.**

 

_“Ella prende las turbinas, no discrimina, no se pierde ni un party de marquesina, se así cala hasta pa' la esquina…”_

“What the fuck- Coran!” Lance shouts, jolting awake. He startles Keith, who rockets up as well.

“Lance, what the hell is that?” he asks groggily, “is that in Spanish?”

“I’m gonna kick that man’s ass, I swear…” Lance mutters, “Keith, get up, we’ve got a rogue alarm clock to find.”

“Okay, what did that even mean? Lance, it’s three in the fucking morning, why is Spanish music playing in your apartment?” Keith demands, reluctantly climbing out of bed to follow Lance out into the hallway.

“Because my neighbour is a dickbag!” Lance yells into the apartment, aiming it at the far right wall. Keith just rolls his eyes. “We’re looking for an alarm clock on wheels, Keith. A bright pink alarm clock on wheels.”

“Do I even want to ask why?” Keith replies, following Lance out into the living room. The music is a lot louder out here and Lance immediately springs into action, running around the room to try to locate the source of the noise. Keith follows along behind him, searching with far less intensity.

“I’ve caught the motherfucker!” Lance cries after about ten minutes, sprawled out on his stomach with one arm reaching under the couch. He pulls out a bright pink alarm clock on wheels, and Keith’s jaw drops open.

“Oh my god, what the fuck is that? Is it actually an alarm clock on wheels?” he asks, reaching out to grab it from Lance, “holy fuck. I thought you were on drugs when you were describing this to me.”

“Well, I wasn’t. Not this time,” Lance jokes, taking the alarm clock back, “now I’ve gotta give this piece of shit back to my neighbour.”

“How did he even get it in here?” Keith wonders, “didn’t you lock the door?”

“Coran has a key in case of emergencies,” Lance explains, “I should probably revoke it, but I’m known to lock myself out, and he’s helpful in a pinch.”

“And why did he decide to unleash an alarm clock on you at three a.m?” Keith asks, following Lance into the entryway. 

“We’re about to find out,” Lance replies, pulling the door open. Keith stands in the doorway, leaning out into the hallway to watch. Lance walks up to a door and knocks aggressively.

“A-ha! You have been duped!” the man- Coran, Keith thinks- announces gleefully as he opens the door. He’s about thirty years old, with shocking red hair and an obnoxiously large moustache, and Keith nearly snorts with laughter. Coran literally looks like an anime character.

“Coran, we’ve been over this,” Lance huffs, handing the alarm clock back to it’s rightful owner, “you didn’t dupe me. You broke into my apartment. That is not duping; that’s being the worst neighbour ever.” Lance’s words are harsh but his voice and face are soft with fondness; Keith gets the sense that Lance and Coran care for each other a lot.

“Well, dear boy, it was payback!” Coran replies heartily. It seems like he does everything heartily, like life is just a huge stage performance. Keith’ll have to ask Lance later if Coran is san actor. “I’ve had to listen to you and your boyfriend- him, I presume?” he asks, leaning out of the doorway to look square at Keith. Keith flushes. “I’ve had to listen to the two of you having sex for the past two nights!”

“Ah- Coran!” Lance yelps, “I’m sorry! And we- uh- we weren’t- umm- we were just…”

“No need to worry, Lance! Young people like you have sex all the time! Just do me a slight favour and keep it down, would you?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Lance mumbles, fidgeting uncomfortably. Keith would laugh if he wasn’t just as embarrassed.

“Good! Okay, then, Lance, thanks for returning my clock! Have a good day!” Coran responds cheerfully, clapping Lance on the shoulder. He leans out to look at Keith again. “And good morning to you, stranger!” Then, as fast as he’d appeared, he’s gone, yanking his front door shut behind him with a loud slam.

“That was…” Keith breathes as Lance trudges back down the hallway.

“An experience, yeah?” Lance answers, chuckling when Keith nods. “I know. Coran takes some getting used to, but he’s a great guy when you get to know him.”

“I’m just- he just- does he always talk that casually about your sex life?” Keith asks, pulling the door shut behind Lance as he walks in. 

Lance flushes all over again. “Um, yeah, sometimes… I mean, he’s talked to me about it more than once. Him and my mother are the only adults who I’ve ever know to do that.”

“How long have you known him?” 

“Well, he’s only been my neighbour for like, seven months,” Lance explains, “but I bought this apartment from Danny, and they’d been neighbours for like, 5 years. So Coran has known the McClain family for a while.”

“Wow,” Keith replies, “that’s kinda cool.”

“Yup,” Lance agrees, taking Keith’s hand as they both head back to bed. “Coran Altea, living legend, my neighbour.”

“Hold up, did you say Altea?”

“Uh, yeah? Why?” Lance asks. Keith just starts laughing.

“Do you know if he knows an ‘Allura Altea?’” 

“Yeah, actually! She’s his niece; he talks about her all the time,” Lance replies, “do you know her?”

Keith’s laughing turns hysterical, and he wraps his arms tightly around his stomach. “She’s dating my brother. Oh my god,” he howls, throwing his head back. Lance just stares in disbelief.

“No way.”

“Yes, way.”

“That’s just-” Lance chuckles, “that’s fucking crazy.”

“Wow. Just, wow,” Keith breathes. “That’s something.”

“That’s fucking crazy,” Lance repeats, “but I kinda don’t want to think about it right now. Come cuddle with me, Keith; come on, we’re going right the fuck back to bed.”

 

“Keith? Babe?”

Keith just grumbles, pulling Lance’s arm tighter across his chest.

“Sweetheart? Baby? Princess?”

Keith just stays motionless, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Get up, you stale Eggo waffle, my arm’s gone numb,” Lance chuckles softly, wiggling the arm that’s under Keith’s ribcage.

“Nope, you’re warm,” Keith replies lazily, clutching Lance’s wrist tighter.

“And I will continue to be warm even if you get the fuck off my arm,” Lance teases, forcibly pulling his arm out from under Keith. Keith flops forwards with an indignant shriek but still allows Lance’s to pull him close again, one arm wrapping around his waist while the other fits in under his neck.

“Literally all we do these days is lie in bed,” Lance comments against Keith’s neck as Keith pulls the comforter up even further.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Nope, not at all.”

 

**SUNDAY; 10:24 A.M.**

 

“Okay, so, if I’m being completely honest, I didn’t plan an activity for today,” Lance admits over his bowl of cereal. Keith stops chewing to look up at him with curiosity. “I was thinking like, I should probably give you a day to go home and recuperate and get back into routine after a whole week of bullshit. So, I guess this is the end of our adventure.”

“Why are you saying that so sadly?” Keith asks, putting his spoon down and cupping Lance’s cheek, “it’s not like we’re never going to see each other again after this.”

“Well, I know, but like…” Lance replies sheepishly, turning his face into Keith’s hand.

“Lance, you’re my boyfriend,” Keith says, as though it’s a reminder, “that’s not just gonna change because spring break is over, is it?”

“No! No, of course not,” Lance responds, “I guess I’m just worried. Like, we go to different schools; we live two hours away from each other. And, like, that’s not a very far distance, but it’s not small either. And I just- I don’t know- I’m going to miss you.”

Keith can’t reply. His heart softens in his chest and he leans forward, kissing Lance softly. Lance’s hands come up to his waist, holding him closely, and they melt into each other; bowls of Lucky Charms abandoned on the table. Through open eyes, Lance can blurrily see Keith’s long eyelashes and the way that the morning sun plays across his skin. He’s going to miss him, he’s going to miss him so much; he’s gotten used to waking up with Keith there, to eating breakfast together, to just being near each other, and now that’s over. They won’t be living together anymore.

“Stop worrying,” Keith whispers against his lips, “I’m here, Lance, I’m still here. Now hurry up and kiss me, dammit.”

 

“I expect you to visit me on the weekends,” Keith says, sprawled out across Lance’s chest. They decided to go back to bed after eating, neither one of them willing to actually get up and face the day. 

“How about you visit me on weekends? Because I have an actual apartment, and shit like that,” Lance suggests. His hands are splayed out across Keith’s ass; Keith either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Yeah, but your neighbour will assault us with Daddy Yankee if we fuck too loudly,” Keith retorts.

“Okay, true, but still; an apartment, with a sofa, and a kitchen, and a huge bed, and an bathtub…”

“A bathtub, huh?” Keith repeats, raising his eyebrow suggestively. Lance rolls his eyes.

“That’s not what I- are you always this sexually driven?” Lance scolds, his smile giving him away. A shit-eating grin rises to Keith’s lips.

“I dunno, ask your mom.”

“Keith!” Lance shrieks, flipping Keith off of him. Keith goes flying to the mattress with an “oof.”

“You are a disgusting little man, Keith Kogane!” Lance shouts through his laughter. Keith smiles manically, his chest shaking with silent laughter and fisting gripping into Lance’s bedsheets. 

“Oh my god, this hurts,” Keith pants. Lance’s laughter has turned to breathless squawks, tears leaking down his from his closed eyes.

“I cannot believe the disrespect,” he howls, “my mother- my mother would not approve.”

Keith’s eyes crack open just slightly, making contact with Lance’s, and then they’re both roaring again, laughter leaving Keith’s nose in short, broken chortles.

“This is just- this is- this is a mistake,” he snorts, “we’re so weird.”

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Lance replies, surging down to wrap his arms around Keith’s waist. He drags Keith up into his arms like a rag doll, holding him on his lap. Keith’s hands settle around the back of Lance’s neck as they smile wildly at each other, eyes shining with laughter.

“We’re insane,” Keith giggles, his fingers twisting in the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“Well, so’s Melanie Martinez,” Lance replies, “and she’s [A FUCKING RAPIST,] [original line: pretty great,] so…”

“You’ve got a point,” Keith admits, planting his face in Lance’s hair as he slowly stops giggling. Lance’s hands grip into the back of his sweater, shaking through his own laughter. He smiles up at Keith, bright and blinding.

“You’re so great.”

Keith’s eyes widen momentarily, softening from Lance’s words. He takes Lance’s face is both hands, squishing his cheeks a little as he peppers kisses over his mouth and chin.

The moment is adorable- exceptionally adorable and sweet enough to cause cavities- shared in the space between the two lovestruck boys. It pounds in Keith’s chest, sends Lance’s mind into overdrive, and neither would trade it for anything. Lance smiles up against Keith’s mouth, and it feels like home.

Does Lance love Keith? Maybe. Probably, in fact.

Does he want to keep loving Keith? Definitely.

 

“I can’t believe it’s actually Sunday, though,” Lance says against Keith’s skin as Keith sits on the kitchen counter. 

“Don’t start getting emotional on me again, Lance,” Keith warns jokingly, “I might cry.”

“I’m just gonna miss you, Keithboy,” Lance whines, pulling away to pout exaggeratedly. Keith taps his bottom lip with a finger.

“Well, I fucking hope so,” he replies with a giggle, “I’m your boyfriend; I’d be more concerned if you didn’t miss me.”

“Keith!” Lance whines, “you’re going to miss me, too, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Keith promises, more seriously now. His hand comes up to brush through Lance’s hair, pulling it away from his face to kiss his forehead. “You know what they say, though; absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“That’s a stupid saying,” Lance mumbles childishly. Keith just giggles.

“You’re such a baby.”

“Yeah, but I’m your baby-”

“Hey, Lance! I’m back- oh! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, oh god, I’ll just-”

“Hunk?” Lance cries, jumping back from Keith in shock. Keith instantly flushes, growing aware of the fact that he’s sitting on Lance’s counter in nothing but his underwear and one of Lance’s sweaters.

“Lance! Yeah, it’s me! And um, you’re- um- occupied? So I can come back, but like, put a sock on the door next time…” Hunk stutters, just as embarrassed as Keith is. Lance, however, is completely shameless. He barrels forward to envelop Hunk in a hug.

“Buddy! How was California?” he cries.

“It was good! But, um, Lance, are you forgetting about something? Or, um, someone?” Hunk asks, startled, his gaze shifting between Lance and Keith.

“Hmm? Oh, no, Keith and I were just chatting.”

“In your underwear? With your lips on his neck?” Hunk cries incredulously. Keith flushes even darker. “Wait, Keith? As in Keith Kogane?”

“Uh, yeah,” Keith speaks up, hopping off the counter. “Nice to meet you,” he greets. Shaking hands with a complete stranger in just his boxers is a new experience for him, but he gets the feeling that Hunk won’t judge.

“Nice to meet you, too!” Hunk replies happily, his mind still working to comprehend what’s going on. Keith can almost see the cogs turning in his brain. “Now, were you two making out? Am I interrupting something? Because I can come back later…”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Lance says nonchalantly, “we were just talking. It’s good that you’re here, actually, I wanted to introduce you two.”

“But, um, Lance, Keith is in his underwear? Maybe you should let him get some pants, or something?” Hunk suggests, looking a little uncomfortable. He smiles apologetically at Keith, who shrugs. He’s been seen in his underwear plenty of times; it’s just part of being a university student, he thinks.

“Nah, it’s chill.”

“Oh, okay, then. So, Lance, how did you bag this?” Hunk asks, his embarrassment immediately fading into a devilish smirk. “You’ve been pining after this guy for nearly a year and now he’s walking around your apartment with no pants.”

“Pining? For a year?” Keith repeats, raising an eyebrow and matching Hunk’s smirk.

“Oh, definitely; since the Quidditch Cup,” Hunk says, smiling cheekily at Keith.

“Hey, guys!” Lance cries indignantly, “stop ganging up on me! This is cyberbullying!”

 

Hunk, Keith decides, is an actual angel. He takes his and Lance’s relationship in stride, is so incredibly kind, and is willing to take the piss out of Lance in a moment's notice. He flushes and stutters when Keith tells him about Pidge, and signs an autograph for her. She’s going to cry when Keith hands it over, he’s certain.

“Hunk is literally an angel, sent from above,” Keith says to Lance as he climbs into his car to go home, “if I was a baby, I’d want him to adopt me.”

“He has a tendency to make grown men want to be adopted,” Lance agrees.

“And Pidge is gonna go nuts when I give her that autograph, I swear,” Keith adds, curling his knees up in his car seat. Lance’s old car has grown so familiar over the week; it’s strange to think that he won’t be seeing it for a while. He picks up the aux cord, turning on an old playlist that he’d made.

_“I want you by my side so that I’ll never feel alone again…”_

“I fucking love this song,” Lance says under his breath, as though he’s speaking to himself. He starts to mouth the lyrics and Keith joins in, growing in intensity until they’re shouting the song out into the road ahead of them.

“I want you, we can bring it on the floor, you’ve never danced like this before! We don’t talk about it!”

Keith is giggling through the words, arms clutched around his knees, and he almost doesn’t realize that he’s crying.

Lance notices, though.

“Keith? Are you okay?” he whispers, keeping his gaze on the road. Tears are welling up in his own eyes, too.

“I’m just- it feels weird. That this week is over,” he sputters, tears suddenly overflowing. He can’t hold back anymore; he starts sobbing in Lance’s car, Milky Chance playing over the radio, one of Lance’s hands clutched tightly in his.

“Doesn’t it? I can’t believe that we aren’t going to see each other every day,” Lance breathes, pulling the car over on the side of the road. Keith looks up with a shaking chin, and Lance barely has the time to push his seat back before Keith is climbing over the centre console and into his lap. They embrace tightly, Lance’s face in Keith’s chest, Keith’s tears dripping into Lance’s hair.

They’re both overreacting and they know it, but it’s hard. They were brought together in a whirlwind, and now it’s ending. And they’ll be together, sure, but not close enough for either of them.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” Keith whimpers. Lance shakes in his arms.

“You won’t be without me, Keith; you’ll never be without me,” he promises, “we’ll just be apart. I’ll still be there for you, I just won’t be physically. But I’m going to be the clingiest boyfriend ever; you’re going to wish that you were without me,” he jokes, tears ringing in his voice and dragging his humour flat.

Keith doesn’t respond, just drags Lance’s face up to press their lips together. It’s beautiful and tragic, movements ringing with finality, tears smearing against each other’s cheeks, and Lance tears his face away.

“If you’re going to kiss me,” he breathes against Keith’s lips, “kiss me with joy.” Then he’s pressing up again, insistent and eager, pulling Keith close and taking control. He kisses slowly but openly, movements booming with mystery and excitement that bubbles up in Keith chest and drowns him in the best way possible.

Keith has kissed people, lots of them. Girls, when he was young. Boys, as he got older. He’s kissed nerds, and jocks, and artists; the people he found intriguing and the people who found him pretty. But nothing, _nothing,_ could compare to kissing Lance like he is right now. Nothing could compare to the passion that he can taste in Lance’s mouth, to the desire and need that rolls off of Lance’s skin in heavy waves. Nothing could compare to Lance.

His chest throbs with the realization; he needs Lance. It’s sudden, and uncalled for, and it knocks that air from Keith’s lungs. He needs Lance like oxygen.

“This is crazy,” he whispers into Lance’s mouth, “we’ve known each other for less than a week.”

“Well, Romeo and Juliet knew each other for three days,” Lance replies, somewhat incoherently, moving to reclaim Keith’s lips.

“They both died, Lance,” Keith says sarcastically. Lance just shrugs, kissing Keith’s chin and the corner of his mouth as though he’s hesitating, waiting for Keith to say something else. Keith melts instead, lips pressed to Lance’s as he breaks inside, trusting Lance to hold all of the pieces together.

Soon, they’ll be apart. But they’ll still be with each other, they know that beyond a doubt.

 

**JULY 14TH; 5:27 P.M.**

 

“I am so afraid.”

“What? Why?”

“Your brother is scary!”

“Lance, he has one arm,” Keith deadpans, pulling a reluctant Lance down the the walkway to Shiro and Allura’s house.

“Yeah, but he could still kick my ass! He could kick my ass with no arms! And no legs! He could be a disembodied head and still be able to kick my ass!” Lance cries, his eyes shining with exaggerated fear. Keith shakes his head.

“Come here,” he says, wrapping his arms tightly around Lance’s shoulders when he comes close enough, “my brother is going to love you. And, if he doesn’t, Allura will yell at him until he does. So don’t worry.”

“You promise?”

“I do,” Keith replies, kissing Lance’s nose. Lance flushes bashfully.

“Thanks,” he whispers, pecking Keith’s lips quickly.

The heavy door to Shiro’s house swings open right as Lance pulls away, and Allura steps out. “Keith!” she cries, running down the pathway to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, Allura,” Keith chuckles, hugging her back. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek as she steps away, and she smiles fondly up at him.

“How have you been? Oh, I’ve not see you in so long,” she says. Lance fidgets awkwardly where he stands, and her attention slips to him. “Oh! You must be Lance, right? I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Allura! Don’t tell him that, it’ll go to his head,” Keith complains jokingly.

“I’d actually love to hear it,” Lance shoots back, firing a smirk in Keith’s direction. “And it’s lovely to meet you, Allura; I’ve heard a lot about you, as well,” he says with a bright smile, extending a hand. She stares down at it for a moment before slapping it away and wrapping her arms around Lance’s shoulders. 

“No need for formality like that here,” she tells him, smiling warmly, “now come in, come in, you boys must be exhausted. Shiro, Keith’s here!” she yells, bounding back into the house before them.

“She really talks like Coran,” Lance comments.

“I know, right?”

Lance’s nervousness is eased after meeting Allura, but Shiro is a whole different beast. He’s as tall as Lance remembers and his shoulders are even wider, and Lance can’t stop his hands from shaking. But the warm, overjoyed smile that takes over Shiro’s face as he steps forward to hug Keith is so, so comforting that Lance almost relaxes. That is, until Shiro turns to him.

“You must be Lance,” he says, expression hardening somewhat threateningly as he extends a hand.

“Um, yes, sir,” Lance stutters nervously, reaching out to meet Shiro’s handshake. Shiro grips, hard, and it takes all of Lance’s concentration to not yelp audibly.

Keith catches Lance’s eye from in front of him. “Sir?” he mouths, his eyebrows raised in amusement. Lance flushes.

“Shiro, you’re terrifying the poor boy,” Allura scolds, stepping forwards to bat at Shiro’s arm.

“Well, I think that’s my right,” Shiro replies, letting go of Lance’s hand anyway, “he’s dating my little brother, after all.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to be a dick, Shiro,” Allura growls, setting her jaw. Lance’s mouth drops open, Shiro blushes bashfully, and Keith covers his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing. Allura just smiles brightly at Lance before looping her arm around Shiro’s and dragging him out into the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” Lance breathes when they’re out of earshot. Keith drops his hand and starts howling, Lance joining in within a couple of seconds.

“I forgot to tell you that Allura’s a fucking badass,” Keith pants.

“I can see that!” Lance replies, steadying himself with a hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith smiles up at him.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” he asks after a minute.

“There was a moment in which I genuinely thought he was going to break my hand,” Lance says, flexing his right hand for emphasis. Keith just rolls his eyes and grabs it, lacing their fingers together.

“He likes you,” he promises, “he’s just being an asshole because he thinks he’s supposed to; he’ll tire himself out soon.”

“If you say so,” Lance responds, eyebrows lifting in disbelief. 

Keith rolls his eyes again, pressing a kiss to Lance’s cheek. “I do.”

 

“So, how did you guys meet?” Allura asks over dinner. Shiro still has a residual blush left on his cheeks from getting scolded earlier and, if Lance wasn’t so scared of the guy, he might feel bad for him.

“Oh, it’s kind of a funny story, actually,” Keith replies, “so, Lance played Quidditch for CIM at the Cup.”

“You did?” Shiro asks, leaning forwards Lance as though trying to recognize him. “Oh my god, you did! You were Seeker, right?”

“Yeah, actually! And you were Keeper, weren’t you?” Lance asks, praying that his face isn’t displaying his genuine terror. To his surprise, though, Shiro cracks a smile.

“Yeah, how’d you remember?”

“Well, it’s hard to forget the team that kicked my ass, so…” Lance jokes with a shrug.

Allura chuckles warmly, “well, sorry about that.”

“No problem, Quidditch is an intense game,” Lance says, “and, umm, Keith? You were talking?”

“Hmm?” Keith asks, jumping slightly in shock. He snaps back into the conversation. “Oh, yeah! So, Lance and I met because he accidentally texted a wrong number a couple of months ago, and the wrong number was me, by some weird coincidence.”

“You were so fed up with me when I texted you as a wrong number,” Lance adds with a fond chuckle.

“That’s because you were annoying,” Keith retaliates.

Lance shrugs, “I can’t argue with that.”

“Anyways, Lance and I were both staying at school during spring break, so we decided to spend it together,” Keith concludes.

“That’s adorable!” Allura coos at the same time as Shiro says, “spent it together doing what?”

“Having a lot of sex, Shiro,” Keith deadpans, glaring flatly at his brother. “A ton of sex. So much sex that Jesus himself will turn us away at the gates of Heaven.”

“Keith!” Lance cries, smacking his arm gently. Keith looks over at him, an overjoyed smile on his face, his lips shaking like he’s trying to hold back laughter. Allura’s expression is a perfect match; and Shiro? Well, Shiro, like Lance, just looks embarrassed.

“No, but for real, we went to an aquarium and stuff like that,” Keith replies, lacing his fingers with Lance’s under the table. Lance huffs a sigh of relief.

“So, how long have you and Shiro been together?” he asks Allura, desperate to shift the attention away from him and Keith. Allura gladly takes the bait.

“We’re coming on four years, now,” she says.

“And what do you guys do for work?”

“We’re a freelancing accounting duo.”

The rest of the dinner goes just like that, with Lance awkwardly asking question to Allura as Shiro sizes him up intently, all while Keith just tries not to laugh.

 

“Keith, you are so incredibly embarrassing,” Lance whines later, as they lay in bed. “I will never be able to face your brother again, I’m going to have to go into hiding, I’ll need to change my name to Pedro Gonzales…”

“Oh, hush up, you big baby,” Keith replies with a gentle smile, “I was joking; Shiro knows that. He just gets embarrassed easily. And he likes you, I know because you remembered his Quidditch position.”

“Of course I remembered his position, he was amazing,” Lance insists, drumming his fingers against the small of Keith’s back.

“Well, you should tell him that,” Keith suggests, resting his head on Lance’s chest.

“That just seems like flattery, like I’m playing to the judge,” Lance whines. Keith rolls his eyes.

“That kinda shit works with Shiro; his ego is almost as big as yours,” he says, chuckling at Lance’s offended gasp.

“You are rude,” Lance says in a mock scandalized voice, “now get up here and kiss me, mullet-man, pay tribute for your sins.” 

“Pay tribute, huh?” Keith teases, rising up on Lance’s chest to raise a suggestive eyebrow at him. Lance frowns in mock exasperation. 

“Why do you make everything sexual?” he whines, “and Keith, don’t you dare make another your mom joke-”

“I dunno, ask your mom.”

“I am leaving, I am going home right now, I cannot believe-” Lance cries, sitting up. Keith just adjusts himself to sit in Lance’s lap and wraps his arms around Lance’s neck, pulling him down to kiss him.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Lance says against Keith’s lips, his fond smile completely betraying his words. Keith chuckles and kisses him again.

“Yeah, well, I’m your piece of shit.”

“That was so incredibly gay,” Lance giggles, laying back down and wrapping his arms around Keith from behind.

“Well, so are we, so…”

**JULY 15TH; 9:07 A.M.**

 

Lance is stood in the kitchen, scruffy and half-asleep as he waits for the coffee machine. He stifles a yawn into his hand, barely noticing when Allura walks in and stands next to him.

“Good morning, Lance,” she greets, “I hope you slept well.” Her long, white hair is pulled up in a bun, strands falling messily around her face, and she’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt that Lance presumes is Shiro’s. Lance thinks it’s a little unfair that she can roll out of bed looking legitimately flawless; he’s pretty sure that he, himself, looks like a rat.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” he mumbles through another yawn, “and good morning to you, too.”

“I probably should’ve warned you; the coffee maker is slow,” she says with a chuckle, waving her hand lazily at the appliance, “I’ve been trying to convince Shiro that we need a new one for months, he’s just stubborn.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Lance replies, a small smile breaking though his usual morning frown. “Where are the mugs, though? And milk, and sugar, and stuff.”

“Oh! The mugs are right up here,” she says, turning to open the cupboard that was behind her. “Milk and cream are in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet above the coffee maker.”

Lance smiles warmly at her, “thank you so much.”

“No problem, dear.”

Lance likes Allura, he decides. She’s friendly, and badass, and Lance’s sisters would kill to have hair like hers. He’ll have to see if he can braid it, eventually.

The coffee machine dings and stops brewing, shocking him out of his thoughts with a slight jump. Allura, who’s filling a kettle with water, smiles at him curiously and starts to giggle. He joins her as he takes two mugs from the cupboard.

“Keith really likes you,” Allura comments quietly as Lance sets about preparing his coffee. He instantly flushes up to his ears.

“Well, I’d hope so,” he responds softly, “because I really like him.”

“Aww,” Allura coos somewhat jokingly, gazing wistfully at Lance from where she stands. Lance gets the feeling that she can see right though into his mind, that she knows exactly what he’s thinking and, strangely enough, he’s completely fine with it. “So, you two met over spring break, right?”

“Yup,” Lance replies, only half focused on the conversation at hand. _“Okay, Keith likes two teaspoons of sugar and milk until caramel-coloured, right? I’ve been making this boy coffee for months and I still feel like I’m doing it wrong.”_

“That’s fun,” Allura says, pouring some tea leaves into a filter, “what kind of stuff did you guys do?”

“Oh, Allura, I’m about to tell you about one of my proudest ideas ever,” Lance announces, throwing her a smirk over his shoulder, “an adventure a day, every single day, for a week. I bet Keith five bucks that he’d have the time of his life if he came with me.”

“And did you get the five?” Allura asks. The amused lift to her eyebrows reveal that she already knows the answer, but Lance nods proudly anyway.

“I did,” he replies victoriously, “I knew I’d won on the first day; I took him to an aquarium, and that was that.”

“And how did you start dating?”

“Um-” Lance hesitates biting his lip in embarrassment, “well… We kinda got really drunk? And I know that that’s not really super romantic, but I’m glad it happened. I never would’ve been able to gather up that balls to ask him out without the help of alcohol.”

Allura chuckles, eyes sparkling as her shoulders shake elegantly with laughter. “Wow, quite a story. But you liked him before then, yes? And answer carefully; if you fell for my Keith _after_ helping yourself to his body, I’ll kill you.”

Lance gulps, coughing nervously into his shoulder. “Allura, I, um- we, um- not on the first- I mean like, we didn’t really- um…”

“I wasn’t asking if you had sex, Lance, I am merely insinuating that you did sexual things,” Allura teases, “I was asking if you had feeling for him before those sexual things took place.”

“Oh, um… well, I did. I liked him before then,” he whispers, “I really liked him. I realized that I liked him on the first day, at the aquarium; he was so, so beautiful.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Allura asks, staring softly into her mug of tea. “He’s a special boy, Lance. And you must be something special, too; Keith doesn’t go falling head over heels for just anyone.”

“I’m no prince,” Lance admits honestly, “I just want to be with him. And I do things wrong, and I mess up, and we aren’t perfect, but I’d do anything if it meant that I can still be with him. It’s been quick, I’ll be the first to admit that, but it feels real.”

“Do you love him?”

That’s the question. Lance sighs, setting the spoon that he’d been stirring his coffee with down on the counter and turning to face Allura fully.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he whispers, “I don’t know if I love him fully yet. But I know that I could love him, that the potential is there. And, in time, I firmly believe that I will love him. For now, though, all I know is that I need him, I need him like oxygen. So, do I love him? Maybe. Possibly. Probably, in fact. I’m not sure. But I want him to be near me for as long as he still wants me near.”

Allura just stare at him, long enough that Lance’s face turns red, that he starts to worry that he said the wrong thing, and then she sets her mug down.

_“Oh my god, she’s going to hit me.”_

Allura wraps her arms around Lance’s shoulders.

He jumps, completely surprised, and his mind races for a moment before he instinctually hugs her back.

“I believe you,” she breathes, pulling back to look into his eyes. She stares like she sees the world in Lance, and Lance’s heart swells. “And I believe that you’re good for Keith. Don’t let me down, please.”

Tears well up in Lance’s eyes and he blinks them away urgently. “I won’t, I promise.”

“Thank you. And if you do, god help you, because I’ll kick your ass,” she threatens with a bright smile, clapping Lance on the shoulder before stepping back and retrieving her tea.

“I believe it,” Lance admits with a shrug, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He lifts Keith’s mug to his lips to check that it’s right, wincing when the sweet liquid hits his tongue.

“Keith takes his coffee like candy, doesn’t he!” Allura cries, pointing at Lance’s puckered expression.

Lance chuckles, “he does! He’s going to get diabetes at this rate, I swear.”

“Don’t I know it; Shiro’s the exact same way.”

“Oh, really?” Lance asks, busying himself with pouring milk into his own coffee. “Shiro doesn’t really seem like an overly sweet coffee kind of person.”

“Does Keith?” Allura replies, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve got a point.”

“I think it’s the entire family, actually; John has quite the sweet tooth, too,” Allura comments with a shrug, “oh, and Shiro likes you, by the way.”

“Are you sure?” Lance asks disbelievingly.

Allura rolls her eyes, a fond smiling rising up on her lips. “Of course I’m sure; I’m his girlfriend. And he’s just putting on a tough-guy act to see if he can scare you away, he’ll get bored of it soon. And he’s about as dangerous as a blade of grass, so…” Allura adds with a chuckle.

“Well, he is the scariest blade of grass I’ve ever seen,” Lance admits.

“He likes you,” Allura repeats, setting a hand on Lance’s shoulder as she walks past, “now, go bring that coffee to you boyfriend; he’s grumpy in the mornings.”

“Don’t I know it.”

 

Lance is lying on his back in Shiro’s backyard, his eyes closed against the sun that warms his skin. He loves this, loves being outside, listening to nature. He’s relaxed, so content that he doesn’t notice the heavy footsteps coming across the yard. He does notice the shadow that casts over him like a solar eclipse, blocking out the sunlight and leaving him cold. He cracks one eye open.

“Hey, Lance, wanna chat?” Shiro asks, somewhat menacingly. He’s standing above Lance, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks down, and Lance nearly screams.

“Uh, sure,” he squeaks, his heart hammering as he sits up. Shiro sits down beside him, never once uncrossing his arms.

“So,” he growls, “how long have you been dating my brother?”

“Around five months, now,” Lance stutters, his hands shaking. He starts to think that Keith and Allura have been lying to him, and that Shiro hates him and is about to tear his head from his body. 

“Oh, so, not that long. Okay,” Shiro says with a nod. Lance’s fingers go numb. “And where do you go to school?”

“Cleveland Institute of Music,” Lance replies with a dry mouth. 

Shiro clicks his tongue. “You’re a musician, huh?”

“Oh, no. I’m there for music technology; so I’m a producer,” Lance says, raising a hand. “I play the piano, though.”

“Are you any good?”

“At piano? Well, I hope so,” Lance chuckles nervously. He can’t feel his heartbeat any more; it’s gone.

“What do you do for work?” Shiro asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Lance.

“I work the recording studio for my peers, and I’m a guest personality on my friend’s YouTube channel.”

“YouTube, huh? So, you're an Internet personality?” Shiro inquires, unimpressed.

“Not quite. My friend, Hunk, is the personality; I’m just an extra,” Lance replies, his voice definitely shaking.

“Alright. What’s the channel?”

“It’s uh- it’s TrumpetHunk, no spaces,” Lance answers. His fingers dig into the grass underneath him.

“Good, good,” Shiro says, somewhat dismissively, and if Lance wasn’t so terrified, he might be offended.

“It’s a very good channel, Hunk’s an excellent musician,” Lance replies meekly, biting his lip in fear.

“Interesting,” Shiro responds, something that Lance’s can’t quite recognize sparkling in his eyes. “Now, Lance, talk to me about Keith. What are some things you like about him?”

“Oh, that’s easy; he’s kind,” Lance replies, “he’s kind and friendly and smart and beautiful. He’s hilarious, too. And he doesn’t mind when my next door neighbour wakes us up at three in the morning. He fits in well with my friends, too, and I hope that I fit in well with his.”

“I’ve never heard anyone describe Keith as friendly,” Shiro chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Well. he’s friendly in his own way; it just takes some getting used to,” Lance replies, smiling. He hopes that, if he forces himself to smile, it’ll melt the ice in his veins and take away the fear that Shiro’s going to hate him.

“And would you say that you’ve gotten used to it?”

“Oh, definitely not; I learn new things about Keith every day. There’s no getting used to him, just to his mannerisms,” Lance says. It’s coming easy to him, now; talking about Keith puts him at ease.

Shiro stares at him just like Allura had; deeply, as though he’s seeing into Lance’s mind. “And is there anything that you dislike about Keith?”

 _“Is this a trick question?”_ Lance’s mind screams. He frowns a little, trying to figure out the best answer. “Well, yeah, of course. He hogs blankets, and he gets water all over the bathroom when he showers, and he refuses to wake up before noon most days. And there’s stuff about me that he dislikes, too; I leave dishes in the sink, and I never tie my shoes, and I throw my laundry everywhere. But, if we liked every single thing about each other, we wouldn’t be human.”

A relieved huff escapes through Lance’s nose as Shiro’s eyes visibly soften. He feels like he can breathe again, the ice water draining out from his veins. 

“Do you and Keith have any plans for the future?” Shiro asks, much more gently now. 

Lance’s eyes widen, “um, well, we’ve never discussed anything. But I want to be with him in the future, for as long as he’ll have me.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you’ve only been together for five months; that’s not even half a year,” Shiro challenges, “you’ve barely even had a present together, should you really be thinking about the future?”

“Yes, I think we should,” Lance replies firmly, trying to shake off the poison that seeps out of his chest and through his body, “I think we should because, if we don’t look into the future, we have nothing to work towards. And, sure, five months isn’t a long time, but it’s still a time and, without thinking of the future, it may as well just be time wasted. So I don’t know what’s going to happen next but, whatever it is, I want to face it with Keith, for as long as he’ll let me.”

“Do you love him?”

Lance drops his head and closes his eyes, taking a moment to collect himself before he speaks. His emotions are running high; he’s afraid, so, so afraid, and he’s worried, and he wishes that Keith were here.

“Do I love him? I don’t know,” he starts, “I truly don’t know yet. I’m young, I haven’t experienced love for anyone outside of my family in any real capacity. I don’t know for sure if love is what I hold for Keith. But I do know that I need him. I know that he makes me want to be a better person, and that he inspires me every single day. I know that I like being near him, and talking to him, and having him with me. I know that he makes me happy. Do I love him? Possibly. Do I think that I could love him; truly, and madly, and deeply? Definitely. I think I just need time to learn what love is, first.”

“And what if, even after all of that time, you still don’t know if you love him? What’re you going to do then, Lance?” Shiro demands, leaning forwards and resting his arms against his bent knees. Lance sighs.

“Then I’ll let him break my heart,” he replies, looking anywhere but at Shiro. ‘Keith is smart; he’ll know if I’m not entirely in it. And he’d never stand for that, he has too much integrity. And I’d rather let him tear my heart out that do anything to hurt him. Honestly, Shiro, I’m pretty sure that I love him; I’m almost certain, in fact. And I’d tell him so right now, but I’m not sure if he loves me.”

“And why is that stopping you from telling him? Don’t you think it’ll influence his decision?”

“That’s exactly why I’m not telling him. I want him to be able to decide on his own if he loves me; it’s not my choice to make. And I don’t want to let my thoughts and feeling and opinions drown his out,” Lance says, his voice breaking. He’s so, so close to crying. Having to come to terms with his love for Keith right here, out loud, in front of Shiro, is almost too much for him.

“Lance,” Shiro whispers, “I’m sorry for all of this. I just- I don’t know- I have to protect him. He’s my little brother, and he’s been through so much, and I just don’t want to see him get hurt. I’ve been awful to you for the the past-”

“No. Please, don’t worry about it,” Lance declares, “it’s fine. It’s more than fine, in fact. You know more about Keith and his life than I do, you’re allowed to do whatever you deem necessary to protect him.” Shiro stares at him, making eye contact and, for the first time, Lance feels completely at ease. 

“You’re good for him,” Shiro admits with a nod, “you’re great for him, in fact. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Keith so heels over head in love with anybody. And you respect him, and you care for him, and you want what’s best for him, and I can’t see anything in you that I could complain about.”

“Thank you,” Lance breathes, his eyes squeezing shut in relief.

“Just so you know, though,” Shiro continues threateningly, “if you fuck him over in any way, and I mean any way, Allura and I will kill you. So watch your back.”

“Noted,” Lance says, a feeble smile rising to his lips. Shiro smiles back, standing and offering Lance a hand. They walk back to the house in silence. And later, when Lance wraps his arms tight around Keith’s waist and holds him close for ten minutes, Keith doesn’t question it.

 

“So, what did you talk about with my brother?” Keith asks that night as they sit in bed, preparing to lie down. They’d just finished a game of Settlers of Catan with Shiro and Allura; Keith had won by a landslide while Lance had gotten his ass kicked, having only two points on the board.

“Honestly, just the classic meet-the-parents kind of stuff,” Lance replies, “he asked me what I do for work, and what I think about you, and all that. It was terrifying but I feel like I should be more afraid of Allura than of him.”

Keith nods in agreement, “definitely, she’s the force to be reckoned with,” he says, “oh, and what do you think about me?”

“I think you’re a piece of shit,” Lance teases, smiling as Keith bats gently at his face. “No, but for real, you are a splendid human being, and I think you’re lovely, and all that jazz.”

“Wow, quite the informative answer, McClain,” Keith jokes. 

“I’d like to see you do any better,” Lance invites with a raised eyebrow. He’s being completely serious, however; all he wants is to know how Keith feels about him

“What do I think of you, huh?” Keith starts, cocking his head, “well, I think you’re hilarious, and talented, and smart. And I think you’re kind, and you have an amazing taste in t-shirts and fragrances, and you’re got really smooth skin. On top of that, too, I think you’re an excellent fuck.”

“Keith Kogane, a man after my own heart,” Lance swoons dramatically, looping his arms around Keith’s waist and pulling him close. Keith giggles as Lance drags his nose up along the column of his throat, breathing warm air over his skin.

“What did you really tell Shiro about what you think of me?” Keith whispers as Lance presses kisses against his neck

“I told him that I think you’re kind, and smart, and beautiful, and that I want to be near you for a long time,” Lance breathes in response, tentatively, as though he’s scared that Keith will disappear if he speaks too loudly. Keith just smiles, tilting his head down to kiss him

“Lance McClain, a man after my own heart.”

Lance stares up at him, something akin to awe shining in his bright blue eyes. Keith smiles down, cupping his hand around Lance’s cheek, and they stay just like that for who knows how long. It’s the moments like this that Lance loves the most, holding Keith close to him, their eyes locked like they see the universe in each other. Keith’s breath washes over his face and his hands are warm against Lance’s cheek, and he feels like home.

 

**JULY 24ND; 7:16 A.M.**

 

“I hope you’re ready for a twenty-nine fucking hour drive!” Lance exclaims in mock excitement. He’s been bouncing on the balls of his feet all morning, however; eager to see his family. But he, like Keith, is not pleased about the massive road trip ahead.

“A full day in a car with you,” Keith whines, “no, ugh, you smell.”

“I do not smell!” Lance cries, “it’s your mullet that smells, I’ll tell you what!”

Keith raises his eyebrow devilishly, “then how about I cut it off?” he asks. Lance blanches, his jaw dropping in shock.

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“Oh, I would, McClain, I would.”

“Keith, if you chop off that goddamn mullet, I will break up with you; I swear it,” Lance whines, reaching out to twist a strand of Keith’s hair around his finger.

Keith scoffs, “I knew it, you’re only dating me for my mullet.”

“Wow, what tipped you off?” Lance asks sarcastically. Keith just smacks at his hand.

“I can’t believe this; first, you make me get up at this ungodly hour, now you tell me that you only like me for my hair? How could you, Lance McClain?” he grumbles dramatically as he climbs into the passenger’s seat of Lance’s car. Lance shakes his head as he shuts the trunk, and Keith smiles at him through the rearview mirror.

“I can’t believe that you’d threaten to cut you hair,” Lance replies, pouting exaggeratedly as he climbs into his own seat. “Blackmail is a crime, you should be imprisoned.”

“Call 9-1-1, then, go on,” Keith teases, “watch them cart your boyfriend away.” Lance just pouts as he puts the car in drive and pulls out of the parking lot at his apartment building. 

“You’re mean,” he whines childishly. Keith just laughs, taking one of Lance’s hands as he grabs for the aux cord with the other.

“And you’re stupid,” he replies, shuffling one of his playlists. He shuffles a few more times, until he’s satisfied with what’s playing, before turning his phone off and putting it in one of the cup holders. 

“Mean!”

“I’m kidding, you big idiot,” Keith chuckles, raising the back of Lance’s hand to his lips. He doesn’t kiss it so much as just hold it up to his mouth, but Lance blushes all the same. “But you’d better know where you’re going; if you get us lost, I’ll break up with you.”

“Of course I know where I’m going,” Lance replies cockily, “I’m like a pigeon; I always know how to get home.”

“A pigeon, huh?” Keith deadpans, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. Lance just shrugs.

“A pigeon.”

“Wow, sexy,” Keith taunts. Lance wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Damn, Keith; I never knew you were a furry.”

Keith chokes, dropping Lance’s hand in exaggerated disgust. “Lance!”

“You said it, not me.”

“Let me out of this car, right now, we’re getting a divorce, get away from me.”

“No can do, Keithboy; you’re stuck with me for a while, now.”

 

It’s a relatively easy drive, as they stick to mostly empty highways, and they agree to switch drivers every three hours. One thing that Keith did not agree on, however, is that sitting in shotgun automatically makes you the DJ. He doesn’t think he can stand listening to any more Beyonce.

“Whatever happened to ‘driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole?’” he laments, staring sadly out into the road. They’d switched drivers after stopping for a second breakfast a few towns over, and Lance has played nothing but Single Ladies and Halo ever since.

“We’re not Winchesters, Keith,” Lance replies, pressing a hand to his chest and gazing up sadly.

Keith sighs in lament, “unfortunately. Now would you please play something other than Beyonce?”

“Okay, first of all, how _dare_ you; Beyonce is my queen and saviour,” Lance yelps in offence, touching a hand to his chest. “Second of all, sure; what do you want to listen to?”

They deliberate about song choices for a while, vetoing each and every one of the other’s suggestions. It’s annoying, yet still entertaining.

“You know what, fuck this, I’m texting Hunk,” Lance declares after about ten minutes, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. Keith laughs when he smacks the ceiling. “He gets to pick the music.”

“He’s not even here!”

“I don’t care; he’s still better than both of us!”

Hunk replies in less than five minutes and, wordlessly, Lance starts scrolling through his phone.

“Huh? Wait, no, what are you doing?” Keith asks, eyeing him with slight concern, “what are you going to play?”

“You’ll see,” Lance replies, hooking his fingers over the edge of his phone screen to block Keith’s view of it. Keith whines, defeated.

_“If I retreat; words, wars, and symphonies…”_

“Make room, we’re taking over here!” Lance and Keith shout in unison to complete the lyric, Lance adding in a, “ba, ba, duh duh duh duh.”

“Hunk has an amazing taste in music,” Keith comments, reaching over to turn the song up.

“He just loves Panic! at the Disco, honestly,” Lance replies, “but, then again, everyone loves Panic! at the Disco.”

“Exactly- wait, shut the fuck up, I love this part,” Keith cries, “may your feet serve you well, and the rest be sent to hell-”

“Where they always have belonged-”

“Cold hearts brew colder songs!”

Lance is jamming in the passenger’s seat, scrolling through his queued music to adjust it to his liking, and Keith can’t help but smile. He must admit, Lance is impressive; before meeting him, Keith hardly did much of anything. He stayed inside, at home, sometimes spending full days in complete silence; but now? Well, now he’s on a twenty-nine hour road trip to Arizona in order to meet his boyfriend’s family. He’s gleefully shouting the lyrics to Panic! at the Disco out into an open road. He’s throwing McDonald’s french fries at Lance, aiming out of his peripheral and laughing hysterically when Lance actually manages to catch one. He’s smiling at Lance’s reflection in the rearview mirror, and blushing when Lance smiles back. He’s free, his heart light and happy in his chest; and it’s all because of Lance.

And so, when Lance plays ‘The End of All Things’ and sings every word  to Keith as though he means it, Keith listens intently. When Lance pulls Keith into his arms in a Burger King parking lot and presses kisses across his cheeks and forehead, he giggles and kisses back. And, when Lance stares up at Keith like he hung the moon and stars, Keith stares back as though Lance is the sun.

 

“Okay, tell me about your family again.”

“Well, they’re loud and massive and like nothing you’ve ever seen before,” Lance replies, smiling fondly through the windshield.

Keith gulps, “well, that’s comforting.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Keith, baby, sweetheart; don’t worry about anything!” Lance declares, “my family is going to love you. They literally love, like, everyone.”

“It’s just, like, I’ve literally never been around more than two or three people at a time, and now I’m living with a family of eleven for half a month. That’s stressful, Lance,” Keith cries, “and don’t call me baby, that’s weird.”

“How is that weird! You’re my boyfriend; you’ve literally had my-”

“Enough, Lance!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Lance chuckles, smiling apologetically, “and I’m serious; they’ll love you. And they’re some of the chillest people you’ll ever meet, so don’t worry about being overcrowded or anything. It gets loud sometimes, definitely, but you can handle it. I know you can.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Keith replies with a chuckle, arguing merely for the sake of it now. “Oh, and I have something to tell you, but you probably aren’t going to like it very much.”

Lance’s eyes widen in genuine shock and fear momentarily before his face settles into an amused smirk, “what? Are you pregnant?”

“Yeah! With twins,” Keith replies brightly, cupping his hands under his chin as he plays along. They lock eyes in the rearview for a moment before cracking up.

“Okay, you big idiot, what did you have to tell me?” Lance pants as his laughter slows.

“I’m not going to have sex with you in your parents’ house.”

“Okay, well, that’s bullshit,” Lance cries, all laughter abruptly stopping, “because, you see, that’s exactly what I said about going to Shiro’s, and do you know what I did? I had sex in Shiro’s house.”

“I know; I was there,” Keith chuckles.

“And it wasn’t even my fault that I had sex in Shiro’s house; it was yours! I think you’re one of those mermaids who seduces sailors and then drowns them,” Lance accuses, scowling exaggeratedly out into the road.

“Did I drown you?”

“In my own embarrassment, yes! Because I’m at least ninety per cent sure that Shiro knows we had sex in his house, and now I can never look him in the eyes again.”

“So what, you had sex in his house?” Keith replies, “he’s had sex in his house before.”

“It’s his house, he’s allowed to!” Lance cries, “I had sex with his baby brother, on his property. That is definitely not okay.”

“I really don’t think that Shiro cares that we had sex in his house; honestly, I think he was expecting it,” Keith assures Lance, “and anyway, what does that have to do with me not having sex in your parents’ house?”

Lance stares incredulously at Keith, over-the-top and all too dramatic. “It has everything to do with you not having sex in my parents’ house!” he declares, “the double-standards that you have about where we can and cannot make love are deplorable!”

“Lance, it is your mother; I refuse to have sex in her presence,” Keith says gravely, levelling a determined glare at Lance.

“We have separate rooms!” Lance yelps, “and it’s not like my mother doesn’t know that I’ve had sex! It’s not, like, a huge surprise for her; she had to give me the whole safety talk!”

“I won’t have sex with you in your house,” Keith says.

“You say that like you’re planning to have sex with someone else in my house,” Lance jokes. Keith raises his eyebrow suggestively.

“Well, maybe I am.”

“Keith, rude!” Lance whines, “and we’ll be at my house for like, two weeks! That’s half a month! That is way too long to have to go without having sex.”

“Lance, you’ve definitely gone two weeks without having sex before,” Keith deadpans, his eyebrow staying raised as he sends Lance an unimpressed look.

“Yeah, well, not recently.”

“Lance,” Keith repeats, “I won’t have sex with you in your house.”

“Keith, please; my dick will fall off,” Lance whimpers. Keith just glares at him. 

“Boo-hoo. I’ll send my respects.”

“Okay, okay, you know what, fine,” Lance declares, “I’ll make you a bet. Ten dollars that, by then end of the trip, we’re going to have sex in my house. And you’ll be the one who’s instigated it.”

“This is the most fucked-up bet we’ve ever made,” Keith chuckles, “but you’re on. Get your cash ready, McClain; you’re going down.”

“Wait; if I’m going down, shouldn’t you get your money ready?”

“That is _not_ what I meant.”

 

**JULY 25TH; 12:07 A.M.**

 

Keith does not agree, and has never agreed, with early mornings. He likes to stay up late, after everyone else is in bed and the world is quiet, but he also likes to sleep. As a result, he crashes almost every day in which he has to wake up before nine. Today is not exception.

He’s been asleep for the past four hours; Lance opted to take a double shift driving instead of waking him up. He’s seen sleepy, half-conscious Keith, and he really doesn’t trust him behind the wheel of a car. It looks like he’s going to wake up of his own accord soon, too, so Lance doesn’t mind the extra driving time. It gives him a chance to just sit and think.

In less than a day, he’ll be bringing Keith around to meet his family.

It had taken a while for his parents to come to terms with his sexuality and, in that time, there had been a lot of hostility. His mother learned to accept it after a little while, and even learned to embrace it, but his dad is still learning. And he’s not scared for himself, or for Keith, not at all; his dad is a calm and reasonable man. He’s just nervous to face that hostility and coldness and confusion again. He hopes that it’ll be easier to cope with if he has Keith, and that, maybe, if his dad sees the connection that they have, he’ll come to believe that Lance’s love is real.

He remembers speaking to Shiro, just a week ago; and how Shiro had described Keith as being “heels over head” in love with him. He remembers talking to Hunk over the phone two nights ago, when Hunk told him that he’s never seen Lance as happy as he is with Keith. Hunk had given him a whole spiel, saying that Lance looks at Keith like Keith is the world, that it seems like he’s in awe every time Keith is close enough to touch, that he’s completely, utterly, and irrevocably gone for him. Most of all, though, he remembers the sound of Keith’s voice over the phone, muffled through the wall, saying what might have been, “Pidge, I think I’m in love with him.”

Lance has been thinking; probably too much, if he’s being completely honest with himself. He’s been thinking that, if this is what it’s like to love Keith, then he’s been loving Keith for a long time. If falling silent to watch intently as Keith moves, speaks, sleeps- because everything that he does is fascinating- means that Lance is in love, then he’s the most lovestruck fool to ever be found. If the ache in his chest that appears whenever he sleeps alone means that he needs Keith, then he needs him more than oxygen. And if the way that Keith clutches tight to Lance in his sleep, mumbling his name over and over and over, means anything at all, Lance could die of happiness. 

Lance want so much of Keith; his body and his mind, his thoughts, his opinions, his everything. He wants to be with Keith all the time, holding him, and touching him, and speaking and laughing and arguing and singing. He wants Keith, and anything that he has to offer.

Now, if Shiro and Allura ask him if he loves Keith, his answer will be yes. Yes; fully, truly, madly, and deeply. He loves Keith. But is he going to tell Keith that? No, not yet. It’s up to Keith, now.

 

**JULY 25TH; 12:21 P.M.**

 

“So, Keithboy, are you ready to meet the McClains?”

“Not at all,” Keith replies, “let’s do this.”

The rest of the drive had been pretty uneventful; Keith had woken up at around one to take over driving until seven, they’d gotten breakfast sandwiches, and then playfully argued about a variety of topics until pulling onto the road where Lance’s house is. It’s a long street, houses scattered few and few between on either side, sitting on huge plots of land.

“Holy fuck,” Keith whispers into the window, “Lance, you never told me you were a farmer!”

“Because I’m not,” Lance responds, confused. “Keith, I never go outside, how could I be a farmer?”

“Because you literally live in Asscheek, Arizona. This is the middle of nowhere.”

“You’ve got a point,” Lance agrees, “most of out neighbours are farmers, but we own the grocery store in town. We’ve got animals and things, though.

“Animals?” Keith repeats suspiciously, eyeing Lance with distrust.

“Yeah; a couple of chickens, a dog, a goat. We’ve got a cat, too, but he’s an asshole.”

“Hold the fuck up,” Keith says in shock, “you’ve got a goat? Who the fuck owns a goat?”

“We do,” Lance replies, momentarily looking away from the road to take in Keith’s disbelieving expression. “What? We milk her. And she’s great with the kids.”

“You’ve got a goat nanny?”

“Exactly,” Lance answers, “now you’re getting the hang of things around here.

Keith rolls his eyes and doesn’t say anything, an amused smile rising up to his lips.

 

The moment they pull into the driveway, two children and a giant dog erupt from the front door and barrel across the yard to surround the car. Keith instantly freezes, and Lance gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his fingers shaking with excitement. He trips over his own shoelaces as he scrambles out of the car, and the kids laugh hysterically at him as he brushes dust from his legs.

“Lance!” the girl cries, throwing her arms tightly around his waist. She looks just like him, same dark hair and skin, same shining blue eyes, and Keith guesses that she’s Lance’s youngest sister, Josie.

“Josie!” Lance yells back, holding her close. Keith watches through the windshield, shaking his leg nervously. The little boy- Matteo, Keith thinks- and the dog jump around Lance’s feet excitedly, desperate for attention.

“Tío Lance!” Matteo shouts, tugging impatiently on the fabric of Lance’s jeans. Lance lets go of Josie to lean down and scoop him up. Keith blinks down, staring at his hands. He breathes deeply a few times, gathering his thought, and then hops out of the car.

“Who’s that?” Josie asks immediately, pointing at Keith with a straight arm. Lance’s head snaps towards Keith and his smiles softly, his lips shaking with excitement. He sets Matteo down gently and reaches out, linking hands and pulling Keith closer.

“This is Keith,” he announces, “he’s my boyfriend.”

 

The McClain household is, in one word, hectic. Josie and Matteo impatiently usher them into the house, where they get caught up in a whirlwind of hugs and handshakes and greetings and a lot of yelling; it’s fun, but it exhausts Keith like nothing else. He’s also embarrassed and a little flustered, particularly when Cleo- one of Lance’s sisters- squishes his cheeks in both hands and says, “wow, Lance, I don’t know how you pulled it off, but you actually bagged a hot boyfriend. Congrats.”

It takes nearly half an hour for the crowd around them to clear, when Lance’s mother starts barking instructions to her children, forcing them to clear out of the kitchen. She sends Keith a sly smile, however, and Keith gets the sense that she knows he needs some space. The second they’re alone, Keith collapses into Lance and rests his head on his shoulder. Lance chuckles softly, hands coming up to smooth over Keith’s back.

“You okay?” he asks, and Keith can almost feel Lance’s curiosity through the tone of his voice.

“That was an experience,” he breathes against Lance’s shoulder, still trying to collect himself and catch his breath. He’s not used to large crowds, has never been used to them, and they’re even scarier when they all want to meet and chat.

“You did great,” Lance whispers, more seriously now. His head ducks down so that his lips are pressed to Keith’s hair. “You were amazing, and they all love you. Cleo, especially, and she’s super tough to win over.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive,” Lance replies, fingers tapping lightly against Keith’s back to a tune that Keith can’t recognize.

“Would it be rude if we took a nap right now?” Keith asks, stifling a yawn against Lance’s neck. Lance just chuckles.

“No; not at all.”

 

**JULY 28TH; 7:27 A.M.**

 

Keith’s time at Lance’s house has been nerve-wracking, to say the least. He’s not used to such a family setting, and the fact that it’s his boyfriend’s family makes it all the more terrifying. He’s tense, terrified to make the wrong move or say the wrong thing or do something to offend the family, despite all of Lance’s reassurances. The fact that he has to face eleven more days of this makes his mouth feel dry; he really just wants to go home.

He’d woken up unusually early and wandered down to the kitchen for some water. He’s leaning back against the island, staring out the window, when Cleo walks in.

“Good morning, Keith,” she says softly, coming up behind him. Keith shrieks, jumping violently and sloshing water all over his feet. Cleo stares in concern for a moment before breaking out into laughter. “Smooth.”

“You startled me,” Keith replies dumbly, his face flushing bright red. 

Cleo rolls her eyes, tossing a towel from one of the drawers at him. “I can see that. Would you mind cleaning that water up?” Keith shakes his head, bending down to wipe up the spill on the floor.

“Sorry,” he says as he straightens up again. Cleo just smirks at him. She looks so much like Lance, same defined cheekbones and eyes that shine like they know something that others don’t.

“Don’t worry about it,” she responds, hopping up to sit on the counter, “and Keith? You don’t have to be afraid of us, you know? We aren’t dangerous.”

Keith’s face flames again, and he looks down sheepishly. “I know, I know, but, well, I don’t know. It’s just scary,” he admits, looking up through his eyelashes. Cleo smiles, warm and understanding.

“I know. But try, okay? Because if you make Lance happy, you make us happy. It may not seem like it, but Lance is pretty important to us,” she chuckles. Keith cocks his head at her in amusement, his chest shaking gently with quiet laughter. “But,” she continues, “that also means that, if you hurt him, we’ll break your bones. So maybe be a little afraid of us.”

“Noted,” he agrees. 

“Seriously, though, Keith,” she repeats, slipping off the counter to grab her own water. “You don’t have to be scared of us.”

“I believe you.”

“Good,” she replies, “now I’m going back to sleep. And I recommend you do the same, you must be tired. We all heard what you and Lance were up to last night.”

Keith’s jaw drops as he turns bright red. “Cleo! We didn’t-”

“I know, I’m just being an ass,” she teases, giggling at his bewildered expression. “I mean it, though, go back to bed. You look exhausted.”

Keith watches her retreating back as she takes off down the hallway, and smiles. He can trust her, he thinks; something about her just seems honest.

Maybe the next two weeks won’t be too bad.

 

“Keith! Keith, come look at this!” Matteo yells, rushing up and grabbing Keith’s hand. Keith chuckles, allowing himself to be dragged out of the house and into the field behind it.

“What am I looking at?”

“It’s a tiny cactus!” Matteo replies, pulling down on Keith’s arm to bring him closer. He sticks out a finger, pointing Keith’s eyes in the right direction. The plant that he signals to is actually a weed, but Keith doesn’t have the heart to say so.

Matteo’s been clinging to Keith’s side ever since he arrived, having taken a liking to him. Keith’s never been a fan of children, but he doesn’t mind Matteo at all; he’s funny and adorable and curious about everything.

Matteo’s attachment to Keith provides his parents the chance to catch up on responsibilities, and Keith is more than happy to help. He figures that entertaining Matteo as Danny and Rachel nap or shower or do laundry is the least he can do to repay the McClains for their hospitality.

“Hey, Keith, sorry to ask, but could you-”

“Yup, I’m on it.”

Keith’s new position as Matteo’s resident babysitter also means that he’s spending lots of time with Benji, Cleo, and Josie. Cleo and Benji are technically supposed to be the ones watching Matteo and Isabella while Danny and Rachel are away- they get paid five dollars an hour for it- but Lance adores Isabella and Matteo is attached to Keith’s hip, meaning that they don’t do any real work. Cleo and Josie typically chat and do their hair and nails, occasionally dragging Keith in to get his hair styled. Josie thinks it’s hilarious. Benji just spends his time making witty comments and innuendos about Keith and Lance’s relationship that lead to some very awkward questions from Matteo.

“Keith? What does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing! Benji, what are you, twelve?”

“On a scale from one to ten, yes.”

Sophia is the only McClain sibling that Keith doesn’t get to spend much time with. She works during the day and takes classes in the evening, so their paths rarely cross. He sees her in the mornings, sometimes, when he goes downstairs to get water. They exchange quick conversation as she gets ready to head out. And he sees her at night as she comes in from class. She usually sits in one of the chairs in the lounge and they talk quietly, careful not to disturb Lance as he sleeps in Keith’s lap. Keith doesn’t know her, much; not to the extent that he’s grown to know Cleo or Matteo. He can see who she is, though, see that she’s smart, and hardworking, see the love that she holds for her family. And he knows that she can see who he is, the piercing blue eyes of her family looking through him just like Lance’s do.

“You really care about him,” she’d commented the other night, curled up in an armchair by the end of the couch. Her eyes twinkled curiously in the dim light from the muted TV, and it looked to Keith as though she was almost challenging him, like she was seeing if he’d crack.

“I do,” he’d whispered, meeting her stare with a slight blush. His eyes flicked from her intense gaze to his fingers, which wound through Lance’s soft hair idly. Sophia had blinked at him, her head cocked as she watched his fingers trail through her younger brother’s hair, and then stood up without a word. She’d nearly been out of the room when she’d turned around.

“Take care of him,” she’d said over her shoulder, not giving Keith a chance to respond before she was bounding up the stairs towards her room.

“I will,” Keith had breathed into the empty air.

 

Now, Keith has to think. And if there’s one thing that he hates to do, it’s thinking.

He loves Lance. He can’t question that anymore, there’s not smoke and mirrors to convolute that fact. He loves Lance; “heels over head,” as Shiro would say.

He loves Lance, and it terrifies him.

Keith’s never really been one for love. He’s more used to a quick fling, a casual fuck, something with zero commitment. He’s never liked to get attached. That is, until Lance came in and fucked everything up.

He needs Lance so much, more than he needs the blood that runs through his veins. If he pulled away now, left Lance in the dust, he’d tear out a part of himself as well. And walking away from Lance, bloody and broken, isn’t something that Keith wants to do; not now, not ever. The thought of leaving Lance scares Keith almost as much as the thought of loving him.

Keith’s always been a rebel; jagged and tough, impossible to get close to. He was a troublemaker in school, fighting, and swearing, and disrespecting staff and peers alike. He was never meant to feel, or to care for others, or even to care for himself. It simply wasn’t part of who he was. Letting others come close made him feel weak, vulnerable, even; he hated it.

Now Keith’s heart is gripped tightly in Lance’s fist. All it would take from him is a yank to tear it from Keith’s chest, to leave him dead on the floor, to walk away with bloody footprints and Keith’s heart still in hand. The power that Lance has over Keith is terrifying, it chokes him, makes his head spin and his chest ache.

Keith was never meant for love.

Until he found Lance.

Trusting is the hardest part, now; loving comes easily. But having faith that Lance won’t walk away, that he’ll accept what Keith lays on the table in front of him, that he won’t tear Keith’s heart from his chest, is impossible.

But that faith is all he needs to have.

“What did you do to me?” he whispers into Lance’s t-shirt as they lie in bed. Soft, steady breathing is Lance’s only reply. His body is warm under Keith’s, solid and familiar and so, so comforting. 

Keith can’t walk away from him, Lance is holding him too tightly.

Keith’s always been free. He’s been alone, and he’s been fine.

He’s no good on his own, not anymore.

He doesn’t want to be free.

All he wants in Lance.

So, the next morning, it’s with a faint but solid heart that he knocks on Cleo’s bedroom door.

“Hey, Keith,” she greets, sitting on her bed with Sophia. Keith steps in, shutting the door gently behind him.

“Hey Cleo, Sophia,” he replies nervously, “could I ask you guys for a favour?”

“Depends on what it is,” Sophia says with a smile. One look in her eyes tells that she already knows what he's going to ask.

“I need you guys to teach me how to say something.”

 

**JULY 30TH; 1:23 P.M.**

 

“Lance.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, papá?” Lane asks. He’s sitting on the back porch, watching Matteo chase Keith around the field. The sun is warm on his skin, and Keith’s laughter rings across the empty space, and it doesn’t occur in Lance’s mind that he should be worried.

Maybe he should.

“I need to talk to you,” Jaime announces, sitting down next to Lance. Lance’s breath catches in his throat, body immediately going cold.

 _“Shit,”_ he thinks, even as he shuffles over to give Jaime more space to sit next to him. Externally, he schools his face into a neutral expression. “About what?”

“About…” Jaime starts reluctantly, waving his hands towards the field, “about Keith,” he spits, the name dripping from him lips like poison.

“What about him?” Lance asks, blue eyes steeling over in defiance. His jaw is set, prepared for battle, and Jaime can see that. He matches Lance’s posture, hostility rolling off of both of them in waves.

“Dios mío, Lance,” Jaime declares, “he is a boy.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Lance replies aggressively. He knows he’s being stubborn and disrespectful, but he can’t help it anymore. He came out when he was sixteen; he’s twenty now, and his dad still sees him as nothing more than a homosexual. Why can’t his dad just learn to accept him as a human being, as his child?

Jaime’s eyebrows raise surprise at Lance’s angry words. “Muestra algo de respeto,” he threatens. Lance just scowls.

“No lo siento.”

“Lance!” Jaime shouts, “I am your father, you will respect me!” Lance wilts under the harsh words and says nothing. “I just don’t understand this- this childish behaviour, Lance! You are a man, and men love women.”

“Yeah, well, not this one,” Lance retorts, far more weakly than before. He’s crumbling, just like he always used to.

“But you do! You say that you like both, Lance; what does that even mean? Why can’t you just choose?”

Lance snaps, standing up from the porch to face Jaime directly. “Because there is no choice! Soy quien soy, papá, I can’t change that. My choice is Keith; accept it!” he yells, face set in determination. Then he takes off into the field, ignoring his father as he shouts after him. Keith watches him approach with concern shining in his eyes.

“Lance?” he asks softly, standing up from where he sits in the grass, “are you okay?”

Lance simply shakes his head, reaching out to wrap his arms around Keith tightly. Keith tenses in shock briefly before lifting his arms to drape them around Lance’s neck, cradling Lance’s head against his shoulder.

“Tío Lance, tío Lance, what’s happening? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Matteo wonders, bouncing around their legs. Keith lets go of Lance with one hand to set it gently on Matteo’s head, mussing up his hair.

“It’s fine, Matteo,” he answers, “Lance isn’t hurt.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Lance sighs against Keith’s shoulder, collecting himself before loosening his grip and pulling away. He crouches down to look Matteo square in the face.

“I had a disagreement with abuelo,” he explains, “but it’s fine. I’m okay, I promise.”

Matteo looks at Lance with wide, curious eyes, his head cocked to the side. Lance just smiles at him.

“Hey, Matteo, how about we show Lance what we were playing earlier?” Keith suggests, crouching down beside Lance. Matteo lights up at that, the disbelief on his face as he’d look at Lance quickly melting away into excitement.

“Yeah!”

“Alright!” Lance says brightly, “what were you playing?”

“Space invaders!” Matteo announces happily.

“And, guess what, you’re the alien,” Keith declares, “get him, Matteo!”

Something shifts in Lance as they both tackle him to the ground, pinning him in the dirt and laughing as he struggles exaggeratedly. The pain inflicted by his father doesn’t feel as sharp, now; isn’t cutting him to the bone. And, when Keith catches his eyes and mouths, “are you okay,” he nods his head without hesitation.

He’s not completely okay, and this situation is fucked up. But he can work it out. It’ll be okay, soon, if not now.

He can be okay.

 

**JULY 30TH; 8:48 P.M.**

 

“Lance, may I come in?” Lance’s mother, Rosa, asks from the doorway. He’s sprawled out in his bed, waiting for Keith to finish showering.

“Of course,” he replies, sitting up. Rosa enters, sitting on the edge of his bed and eyeing him cautiously.

“Your father told me what happened earlier today,” she says. Lance’s eyes widen as he blanches.

“Oh, mamá, mamá, lo siento, I didn’t mean to shout at him like that. It was disrespectful, and it was rude; lo siento.” he stutters, staring at his mother with saddened blue eyes. She just shakes her head, pulling him into a hug with a hand on the back of his neck.

“Mi hijo, do not be sorry,” she says softly into his hair, “it is his mistake. It is not up to you to decide how you feel, and you are not able to change that. He just needs to understand.”

“I don’t need him to understand, mamá; I just need him to accept it,” Lance whimpers, “he could spend his entire life trying to understand and he won’t get anywhere, He needs to accept, that’s all.”

“Lo sé, lo sé,” she says, “it is hard for him, Lance. Allow him time. But that does not mean that he gets to say bad things about you, or about Keith. That is a horrible action on his part.”

“He said Keith’s name like- like it was poison,” Lance cries softly, “like Keith is someone _terrible._ Mamá, he’s just a boy.”

“Oh, Lance, lo siento,” Rosa breathes, “I am so, so sorry. That is horrible. And you don’t have to forgive him; not yet. But, please, allow him time.”

Lance reluctantly pulls away from his mother, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “I will.”

“Gracias, mi hijo,” she says, planting a soft kiss on his cheek before standing.

“Te amo, mamá” Lance whispers as she leaves. She stops in the doorway to look back at him, her blue eyes shining with sorrow. They look exactly like Lance’s.

“Te amo, Lance,” she replies, managing a small smile as she leaves.

It’s rare to see Rosa without a smile; she wears it constantly. When it’s absent, something serious has happened; she is hurt, or worried, or both. Lance never wants his mother to worry.

Maybe he can’t forgive; not yet, at least. But he can give his father space, and time, and allow him the option to grow and accept who Lance is. He can’t forgive, but he can let his dad learn, and that’s the best that he can hope for right now.

 

**AUGUST 2ND; 7:56 P.M.**

 

Keith’s heart has been in his throat for three days, strangling him, making him nervous. And it’s all because of Lance. 

He’s decided to tell Lance that he loves him.

Keith’s not one for love but, strangely enough, he’s a romantic. And confessing to Lance in his family home, watching the sunset across a field of tall grass, is so cheesy and painfully beautiful that he could cry. 

He’s curled up against Lance’s side, head on Lance’s shoulder and Lance’s arm around his waist, the outside air warm on their skin as the sun goes down. It’s a perfect situation to confess, and it’d be profound and beautiful and heart-warming. That is, if Keith can actually manage to get the words out.

And that’s proving more difficult than he ever expected.

The moment he’d even considered confessing, his heart had started to pound, fast and deafening in his ear. His mouth is dry and his hands are shaking, and he is so, so nervous that this could go wrong. He doesn’t want to do this, but he wants to do it more than anything.

“Lance?” he whispers, pulling away a few inches to look Lance in the eyes.

“What’s up, Keith?” he asks, head cocking in curiosity. His blue eyes shine in the fading sunlight, and Keith is choking. He’s so nervous he could cry.

He has to do this.

“Estoy enamorado de ti.”

The sentence is almost silent, the words breathed out into the air between them, but Lance understands it immediately. His eyes widen in shock and he blinks rapidly, his cheeks turning red as he beams.

“Keith,” he cries excitedly, grabbing Keith’s waist to pull him up onto his lap, “Keith, te amo.”

Lance’s face is pressed just under Keith’s jaw, hands splayed across his back to hold him close as  he speaks into Keith’s skin. Keith is giggling hysterically, his whole body shaking as his hands grip tightly around Lance’s shoulders.

“Te amo, Keith, cada día te amo más.”

“Lance,” Keith giggles, pushing Lance back by the shoulders to look him in the face. The tears in Lance’s eyes match the ones rolling down Keith’s cheeks, and Lance kisses just under his eye to catch them.

“Te adoro,” he breathes against Keith’s cheek, “me vuelves loco; te adoro.”

“Lance,” Keith whispers happily, his lower lip shaking, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re saying.”

Lance pulls back, staring up into Keith’s eyes with what could only be described as awe. Their wide, sappy smiles are identical to each other, and Keith’s tears drip onto Lance’s face. His entire body is still shaking; no longer with nervousness, but with joy.

“I’m in love with you, too,” Lance says as he leans up again, the words breathed against Keith’s lips. Keith sobs, hands coming up to cradle Lance’s jaw as he kisses him. They stay like that for longer than either of them know, kissing and crying and shaking, Lance whispering Spanish words into Keith’s skin that Keith doesn’t know, yet still somehow understands.

If they were smarter, they might’ve noticed Rosa, Cleo, and Sophia watching them through the kitchen window. They might’ve heard Rosa’s overjoyed tears as she watched her lovestruck son and his lovestruck boyfriend. They might’ve felt Cleo’s beaming smile as she freaked out because her older brother is in love. They might’ve noticed Sophia’s loving gaze as she internally begged Keith not to hurt Lance, and Lance not to hurt Keith.

And, if they were smarter, they might’ve noticed Jaime around the side of the house, listening in. They might’ve heard his head hit the wall softly as he leaned back, or the rough breath from his lungs as reality hit him in the chest. They might’ve caught the sound of him crying as he realized that Lance is real, and human, and his love for Keith is more than just a childish whim. They might’ve noticed the sound of a breaking man as Jaime realized his mistakes, as his heart ached for Lance; his son, a boy who’s father’s love had been stripped from him so, so unfairly.

But, they aren’t smarter. They’re wrapped up in one another; neither would be able to notice anything but the other's hands and lips and body, even if he tried. The world around them pales in comparison to each other; nothing else matters but them.

 

Rosa is still crying as they enter the house, nearly thirty minutes later. Lance drops Keith’s hand in alarm and rushes towards her, Keith hovering close behind.

“Mamá? Qué pasa? Are you okay?” he asks insistently, grabbing her shoulders and leaning down to look her in the eyes. She reaches up to hold the back of his neck, kissing his forehead.

“Mi hijo, estoy tan orgulloso de ti,” she whispers against his skin.

“Did you… hear?” Lance questions, his head tipping in confusion even as his eyes shine with joy. Rosa just nods, her hand cupping Lance’s cheek as she stares at him like he’s the world. Keith bites his lip and drops his gaze to the floor, the affection between the two of them feeling far too personal from him to be witnessing.

“Hey, Keith,” Cleo says, coming up beside him and setting a hand on her back, “I’m proud of you, too. You went though with it; I haven’t seen Lance so happy in years.”

Keith looks up and smiles at her, not saying anything. He doesn’t think he could, even if he tried. Emotion still runs high in his veins, threatening to boil over and strangle him. He just watches Lance embrace his mother, holding her tight as they both cry.

“Lance!”

Jaime is standing in the doorway with tear tracks staining his face, looking sad and desperate. Lance jumps away from his mother, turning to face the door fully. He looks ready for a fight.

Instead of attacking, Jaime drops to his knees. “Lo siento, Lance, lo siento. I am your father, and I betrayed you, and I hurt you, and I did not accept you as my son. Lo siento, my son, I am sorry.”

Lance’s breath catches in his throat as his mouth drops open in shock, completely frozen in place. His eyes are locked on Jaime, but it’s almost as though he can’t even see him. His body is rigid, stiff, as though he’s dead.

Keith sets a hand on his back, silently but for the sound of his footsteps, and it melts the ice in Lance’s veins immediately. He knows what he needs to say.

“Yo no te perdono, Papá; not yet,” he replies, even as he walks forward to help his father up from the floor, “you’ve hurt me. I’ve allowed you time, now I ask that you do the same for me.”

Jaime’s brown eyes are locked on Lance’s blue ones and tears drip down both of their faces as the grip each other’s hands tightly. They stare at each other for a moment before Jaime pulls Lance forwards, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“Lo siento, mi hijo. Lo siento,” he breathes. Lance takes a steadying inhale before returning his father’s hug.

“Silencio, papá, ya no necesito oírlo,” he says, squeezing Jaime around the shoulders once before stepping away. He looks into his father’s eyes for a moment longer and, unexpectedly, he smiles. It’s soft, and sad, but still definitely there, and Jaime’s eyes well over with tears again.

“No llores más,” Lance whispers, “today is a happy day.” 

Rosa approaches, walking around Lance to set a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “He is right, Jaime; today is a good day.”

Lance steps away, leaving his parents to speak privately. He ushers Keith and Cleo out of the kitchen and into the living room to give them some room.

Once they’re out of the kitchen, Keith wraps his arms tightly around Lance’s neck. “I am so proud of you,” he whispers.

“That was impossible,” Lance replies against Keith’s cheek, his own arms gripping around Keith’s waist. He’s shaking from his shoulders through to his hips and his feet are shifting nervously, and Keith coos incoherently a few times to calm him.

“You did it,” he says, “Lance, you did it. You don’t need to be scared.”

Keith could never wrap his head around what just happened between Lance and his dad; he didn’t understand it when it was happening, and he still doesn’t understand it now. But it means something to Lance, something big, important enough to effect him so strongly, and Keith decides that he doesn’t need to understand it. Not yet, not ever. If Lance wants to explain it, Keith will listen; he’ll listen intently, learning about all of the parts of Lance’s life that have been hidden from him. But it’s Lance’s decision to make. 

He’s yanked out of his thoughts by the sound of a camera click and Cleo giggling.

“Cleo!” Lance yelps, pulling away a few inches but not letting go of Keith as his head whips around to face his sister. Her phone is held up, the camera pointed at the two of them, her hand held over her mouth to hide her giggles. “Cleo, delete that!”

“What, why?” she protests, “it’s so cute, Lance, look!” She holds the phone out in front of her, letting Lance and Keith look at the photo.

It’s cute, Lance can’t deny that at all. Keith’s eyes are closed and his long lashes cast shadows across his face as his lips press to Lance’s cheekbone and his hand grips lightly in Lance’s shirt, resting right above his heart. The last remnants of sunlight filter into the room through the window and bathe them in soft light, painting them picturesque and glowing. 

“On second thought, Cleo, send that to me,” Lance declares.

“See! I told you,” Cleo taunts, grinning smugly. She lowers her phone to tap at the screen and, a few moments later, Lance’s phone buzzes. Keith’s hand slides down his back and into his pocket to pull it out, staring at it over Lance’s shoulder in amusement. He turns it on, staring at the picture of him in bed that Lance insisted on using as his wallpaper. 

He remembers the night he got a wrong-number text from Lance. It feels like it was decades ago. 

So much has stemmed from that night, from Lance’s fingers, from a single incorrect digit, from this phone in Keith’s hand. 

“Cleo,” he starts slowly, “did we ever tell you the full story of how we met?”

 

Four days later, the night before they leave the McClain household, Keith climbs up to sit across Lance’s hips in bed. He’s got a ten dollar bill clenched lightly between his teeth, and he bends down to brush it across Lance’s lips.

“Seriously, Keith? Are you joking?” 

Keith just drags the money across Lance’s lips again, and Lance chuckles even as he takes it between his own teeth. Then he’s flipping Keith over at rapid speed, claiming his lips and pressing him down into the mattress.

They spend their last night in Lance’s house pressed close to each other, silencing themselves into each other’s skin and lips or with fingers on tongues and hands over mouths because, sometimes, Keith forgets to be quiet.

And when Rosa shoots them a knowing smirk as they stumble down into the kitchen the next morning, it takes all of Keith’s strength to not melt into the floor out of embarrassment. He meets Lance’s eyes in his peripheral and they lock stares for a second, both blushing wildly, before collapsing into giggles. Lance’s mom smiles fondly and laughs along with them.

As Keith watches the house grow smaller and smaller on the horizon through the rearview mirror, he decides that he could get used to this. And, as Lance links their fingers absentmindedly, it’s almost like he can see his future laid out in front of him.

It’s terrifying.

And so, so exhilarating. 

And it’s all Lance.

 

**THE FUTURE; INDETERMINABLE.**

 

As time passes, it brings a lot of new things.

It brings more days spent in Lance’s apartment, sprawled out across the couch, eating pizza and watching Netflix. It brings Lance clearing out a drawer so that Keith can leave stuff over, which Keith says is pointless; he wears Lance’s clothes, anyway, he doesn’t need a drawer. It brings Keith’s coffee getting progressively sweeter, and Lance learning how to do pancake art, and drinking the milk left over from Keith’s cereal because he refuses to do it himself.

The future brings the first time that Pidge meets Hunk. She’s so excited that she passes out, and Hunk starts to cry.

“I killed her… I killed her!”

“You did _not_ kill her, Hunk.”

“I killed her!”

Pidge comes to after about twenty seconds, scaring the ever-loving shit out of Hunk. 

Time also brings Hunk’s big break, in the form of a trombone cover of Shape of You by Ed Sheeran. It goes viral almost overnight, and TrumpetHunk shoots up from 800,000 subscribers to 2,000,000. Lance calls Keith in ecstatic tears the morning after it happens, a phone call mainly dominated by loud shouting and Hunk sobbing in the background. The sudden success gives Hunk the chance to record his own album, which he appropriately names, “TrumpetHunk.” Lance had to hold him as he cried at the album launch party.

The future brings more conversations between Lance and Allura as he makes Keith’s coffee. It brings conversations with Shiro, lying out in the grass of the backyard. Shiro’s hostility is gone, replaced with brotherly love and constant reminders that, “if you hurt my brother, I’ll kick your ass.” It brings sex in Shiro’s guest bedroom, Keith purposefully making it just loud enough for him to hear and then taking the piss out of Shiro when he gets flustered over their sex life.

“What, Shiro? It’s not like you haven’t fucked anyone in this house.”

“Yeah, but… but you’re like, twelve. You aren’t supposed to know what sex is yet.”

“Shiro, I’m twenty-two.”

“No, you’re not.”

Time brings trips back to Arizona every summer. It brings Keith giving up at least ten dollars every time, because he always decides that he’s not going to have sex in Lance’s house. It brings Matteo, attached to Keith’s hip even as he grows up. It brings Benji packing up his guitar and joining them back to Ohio to start at CIM. It brings blushing over his coffee at Rosa as she lectures them on the importance of safety, and that they really must try to keep it down, Lance’s younger siblings are starting to ask questions.

Time brings Keith tearing everything out of the dorm that he’s called home and moving into Lance’s apartment. It brings Keith usurping Lance’s bookshelf, and domestic arguments about what socks belong to whom, and kissing in the bath on Sunday mornings. It brings Coran’s constant, dramatic singing through the far right wall, and him coming over for dinner every other Saturday. It brings Keith finding out for certain that Coran is an actor, and he and Lance attending every show that the can get tickets to, meeting Coran with flowers at the backstage access door after each performance.

Time brings Keith and Lance’s first major fight, a massive blow-up about something that Keith can hardly remember anymore. It had seemed so important at the time, though. Keith storms out of the apartment at two in the morning and Lance just watches. Keith winds up taking Lance’s car out to Shiro’s house, where he stays until Lance collapses at the doorway a day later, piss drunk and sobbing. He’s barely choked out an apology when Keith drags him into his arms and kisses across his face.

Time brings flowers, and chocolate, and cheesy birthday and Valentine’s day cards. It brings kissing and cuddling and being overwhelmingly gay, to the point where Pidge and Hunk can hardly be in the same room without laughing. Pidge calls them the picture-perfect couple, or “two halves of a whole idiot.”

“Are you saying I’m only half an idiot?”

“Yeah, but I never said how big that half is.”

Time brings Allura and Shiro getting married. Keith is Shiro’s best man, so he has to stand up at the altar as Lance sits in the crowd. Shiro cries when he sees Allura. Lance does too.

And, later, as they watch Shiro and Allura dance, Lance loops both arms around Keith’s waist.

“That’s going to be us, soon,” he whispers into Keith’s ear, blowing air over his skin and making him shiver.

“Well, then, I can’t wait,” Keith taunts in reply, almost like a challenge. Then he lets the subject drop, not really expecting Lance to follow up on his promise.

Hunk is the first to know when Lance buys the ring. Keith is the last; he doesn’t find out until Lance drops to a knee.

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some references for the TrumpetHunk/PianoLance videos:  
> [Haven't Had Enough (a PianoLance Cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBAeu_pBE4w&index=21&list=LLdPoJWjwGzuYzzLJBlgMQOw)
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> 
> [Shape of You (a TumpetHunk Cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2OaGiafKv4k)
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> 
> Thanks a ton for reading, I hope you enjoyed.  
> I love reading comments, so, if you wouldn't mind, please leave one!


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